


Quantum AU

by Anilkex



Series: You Are The Third Winchester [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU hopping, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Angels, Gen, You Are The Third Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-03-06 21:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 183,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3148886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anilkex/pseuds/Anilkex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A spell forces Kate to hop through an unknown number of realities, encountering various Sams, Deans, and Johns along the way.  How long will the spell last?  How many different Alternate Universes will she meet?  This is my hat-tipping to all the creative AUs this show has inspired.  Third Winchester AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you aren't familiar with my AU, please check my profile. You'll need to do that in order to understand this premise. I'm open to ideas and suggestions, although I have a long list already of what AUs Kate will end up in. If any warnings need to be posted, I'll do so at the start of the chapter.

“Where’d you put the beer?”

“Where do we always put the beer, Bobby? In the fridge!”

“That can’t be all we bought, boy. I know we bought more’n that.”

“Maybe you’re just too old to remember.”

“Maybe you’re gonna be sleeping in the Impala tonight.”

I laughed and swatted Bobby on the shoulder with a dish towel. “The beer’s here somewhere, Bobby. No one drank it all.”

Bobby huffed and fiddled with his baseball cap. “With your brothers, it’s hard to tell.”

Dean snorted from the table, where he was dutifully shucking corn, and making a ridiculous mess doing so. “I probably could, but I didn’t. Did you check the cooler out back?”

Bobby stared at him. “What cooler out back?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “The one you had Adam set up earlier.”

“Goddammit, I forgot about that.”

Dean shrugged with his eyebrows and muttered, “I told you, you’re gettin’ old…”

In an act of pure maturity, Bobby stuck out his tongue and went out back to check the cooler. Dean turned to me. “Jesus Christ, what’s his problem?”

I glanced out the back window before going back to the stove. “He’s nervous, Dean. Ellen and Jo have never been here for a weekend. He wants it to be special.”

Another eye roll. “We’re grilling burgers, not throwing a banquet.”

I glared at him. “This _is_ a banquet to Bobby. Be nice! Don’t rattle him.”

Dean flapped a hand at me, sending bits of corn husk everywhere. “Yeah, yeah. Is Dad gonna be like that, too?”

“Is Dad gonna be like what?” Dad asked, walking into the kitchen slowly, rubbing his chest. 

“Ribs sore this morning?” I asked. He was still recovering from some broken ribs he got a few weeks ago.

“Yeah, a little. Nothing bad. I just…” He paused to cough. “I bent down too fast.”

Dean snickered, and Dad cuffed him on the head. “What the hell - is everyone touchy today?”

“Who’s touchy today?” Sam asked, strolling in.

Dean pointed at him with an ear of corn and whispered at me, “He doesn’t count - he’s a constant.”

I giggled at Sam’s confused expression. “Don’t mind him. He’s being an ass.”

Sam snorted as he grabbed a mug from the cabinet and filled it with coffee. “When isn’t he?”

I nodded in agreement. Dean threw a corn husk at Sam’s head. “Hey!” Corn silk landed in his coffee, and the husk beaned him on the temple. My hand flew to my mouth to hide all traces of amusement, and before Sam could throttle Dean, Adam came running into the kitchen.

“They’re here!” He flew past us, out the back door and pounded down the steps.

I deftly grabbed Sam’s mug, dumped it out and began refilling it with fresh coffee. He grumbled as he picked corn silk out of his hair and Dean took that moment to disappear.

Dad just looked at me. “What the fuck was that?”

I shrugged. “Your kids, not mine.”

He grunted and slowly went out back.

Sam took the fresh coffee and half-smiled a thanks. “What’re you making?”

I glanced over my shoulder at the stove. “Baked beans.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “I’m sharing in your room tonight.”

I snickered. “Your choice.”

**xxxxx**

The afternoon went pretty fast. Dinner was delicious, and it was a real treat to see Bobby happy.

And drunk.

Holy shit, did we drink. At one point, Sam did karaoke from the hood of the Impala. That alone is a testament to how drunk Dean must have been to allow it.

Sometime in the evening, I wandered back inside to go to the bathroom. I say wandered, but I should really say _weaved._ I got through the kitchen pretty well, and when I hit the hallway, I figured I deserved a medal for not falling.

“Not falling down is always a good reason to celebrate, Kate.”

 _Whoa_ \- I’m pretty sure I heard that out loud.

I turned a little and saw a middle aged bald guy standing in the living room. He wore a black suit coat, and a crisp white shirt. I should’ve yelled. Or killed him. Or something.

Instead, I said, “Well, hiya. You have, like, no hair.” Then I giggled. I had no sense of alarm at his presence, and since I was incredibly drunk, I didn’t find that odd.

The man smiled, and tucked his hands in his pockets. “You’re right. This vessel has no hair. I like it that way. Makes things easier to manage.”

I leaned against a wall, nodding. “Huh. That’s a good point. No hair is a lot easier. What’s your name, strange bald man in my living room?”

“Uriel. And you are Kate Winchester.”

I blinked at him. “Wow. You’re good.”

He smiled. “You’re right about that.”

“So. Whatcha want? Want me to get my dad or something?”

Uriel shook his head and took a step closer. “No. I just wanted to see you for myself before I took care of some business.”

I nodded again. “Oh. Well. Here I am!” Then I twirled around, grabbing at the wall for support when I realized how stupid that idea was.

Uriel chuckled. “The prophecies diverged because of you. How...amusing. Well. It was nice meeting you, Kate.”

“MmmHmmm, it was nice meeting you too!” I waved at him, but he wasn’t there anymore. “Huh.” I said out loud, to apparently no one. “That was weird. And I still have to pee.”

**xxxxx**

The next morning, I stretched lazily, feeling warm and comfortable. I didn’t want to open my eyes. Opening my eyes would mean I’d have to wake up. And that would inevitably lead to not being in bed anymore. Somehow, my head didn’t hurt and my stomach wasn’t rolling. I wasn’t about to tempt fate, so I didn’t question it.

I rolled over, relishing the quiet, and wondering if Sam ever made it to my room. Well, I _was_ relishing the quiet until I heard pounding on my door.

“C’mon, Kate! Get up! We’re gonna be late!” It was a girl’s voice, loud and insistent, but vaguely amused.

“Go bother Adam, Jo. I’ll be up later.”

The door opened. The voice was much clearer, and _definitely_ not Jo’s. But it was familiar…

“Kate - our appointments at the salon are for eight-thirty! We gotta get a move on, lazypants! Sam will be here soon, and we have to be gone before then!”

That voice...I _know_ that voice…

_No…_

Wait…

I cracked open one eye, and there she was. Long blonde hair, swept into a ponytail, bright blue eyes and a huge smile on her face.

_Jess._

“Um...Jess?”

She laughed and opened the door wider. “Who’d you think it was, silly? Who the hell is Jo?”

I had both eyes open now, and casually looked around my room. Well, whatever room I was in...because it wasn’t mine. Posters of rock bands hung on the walls, along with a huge mirror over a desk. Photos were stuck into the frame all the way around, but I couldn’t quite make out who was in them.

“Um...Jo’s...a friend. Where are we going again?”

Jess rolled her eyes. “The hair salon. We have to get going! Sam and the other groomsmen are getting here soon, and we can’t be here when they’re here!”

Sam...groomsmen…”...because of the wedding?” I asked, feeling like the slowest kid in class.

“Oh, my God. How much did you drink last night?”

Apparently, waaaaaay too much, because this is one fucking vivid hallucination.

“Look - just get up, okay? You need to be ready to go in ten minutes!”

I licked my lips. “Ten minutes. Got it.” More than enough time for me to figure out what the fuck was going on.

Jess shook a finger at me with this really stern look, before rushing over and giving me a big hug. “I’m getting married today!!!! I’m so excited!!!!! You’ll be my sister for real!!!!” She planted a kiss on my cheek then ran out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

My head was now pounding. What happened?! I fumbled out of the sheets that were tangled with my legs and staggered to the desk, examining every photo stuck to that mirror.

They were of… _us._ There was Sam’s graduation, Dean in front of some garage with a pretty girl, Dad and me posing with the Impala, Sam and I with a bunch of people I didn’t recognize, on and on and on. They were family photos of my family in situations and places I knew never happened.

I whipped around, looking all over the room for anything familiar, anything that could tell me where I was.

There was nothing.

Realizing there wasn’t much I could do at this point but go along, I hunted through drawers until I found clean clothes, got dressed, and went into the hallway.

I didn’t recognize the house at all, but I was on the second floor, and the stairs weren’t far away. I was about to peek inside another room when Jess bounced out of what appeared to be a bathroom. “You’re up!!! Go to the bathroom and let’s get going!” She pushed me towards the door, then sang, “We’ll get Starbucks on the way!”

“ _Hooooray!_ ” I sort-of sang back, clicking the door shut behind me. I went to the bathroom, eenie-meenie-miney-mo’d for a toothbrush, and generally cleaned up. The bathroom cabinets weren’t much help. There were a couple old bottles of medication for Dad (a muscle relaxer and something I didn’t recognize) and some over-the-counter boxes for heartburn and headaches.

“Fuck…” I swore, leaning heavily against the sink. 

“Kaaaaaaate!!” Came Jess’s wail.

Rolling my eyes, I called out, “Coming!” And with that, I left the bathroom and went downstairs.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

The living room was full of girls. Like, four or five. Which, okay, doesn’t really mean full, but for me, who spent her whole life around guys, four girls is a shit ton of girls.

A brunette laughed when she saw me. “You look like you have no idea who we are!”

_You got that right, sister._ I nervously laughed back. “ _Haaaa…_ yeah, drank too much last night. You know...drinking...and...got drunk!” I sort of shrugged and made a _What Can You Do_ face. “So...where’s Jess?”

Another brunette pointed behind me. “In the kitchen. Get your shoes on, woman! We gots to goooo!” Everyone else made some sort of _whoop whoop_ sound, and I wondered how I was going to do this without losing my mind.

I found Jess sitting with… _Fuck! Dad!_ “Dad!” I gushed, running to him and plastering myself to his side. 

“Hey, kiddo! All set for your appointment?”

He smiled down at me, and I realized...he looked different. I stepped back and examined him more closely. No furrowed brow...no worry lines...no graying hair...no hardened features…no haunted look...

_Oh, shit…_ no hunting. He doesn’t hunt. I knew without even asking. I took another step backwards. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was glad - glad that he didn’t have to endure the...well, the _everything_ , associated with hunting. But on the other hand…

I was so screwed. How could I explain that I didn’t belong here?

“Heyyyyy,” I started, casually putting my hands in my pockets and trying to not look as freaked out as I felt. “Yeah, all set.” I thumbed over my shoulder. “There’s a lot of girls in there.”

Jess and Dad shared a look. Dad put down his coffee mug and smiled. “Well, yeah...all your friends are here ready for this party to start!”

Jess giggled and gave Dad a kiss on the cheek. “Tell Mom to meet us there, okay? I don’t want to rush her, but I can _not_ be here when Sam arrives!”

Dad nodded at her, and poked her on the nose. “Will do, sweetheart. Now go have fun!”

Jess bounced out of the room, and my mind was doing cartwheels. Mom? _Whose_ mom?

I rocked on my heels and nonchalantly asked, “So...where _is_ Mom?”

Dad rolled his eyes and leaned on the counter. “Next door finishing some super secret gift for Jess and Sam. I dunno what it is. I didn’t ask, because I don’t need one more thing to think about today.”

I nodded slowly, wishing like hell there was a picture around somewhere so I could see...who Mom is. “Um...okay. Well. Great.”

Dad’s brow wrinkled. “You okay?”

“What? Me? Yeah - yeah I’m great! Peachy! Just...soooo excited about today, you know?” I plastered this huge grin on my face, but Dad’s dad. And he always knew when something was up.

“Right. Listen, I know you’re happy for them. But I know you’re wondering about your own wedding someday. It’ll happen, sweetheart. Don’t worry about it, okay?” He walked over and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Now go have fun. I’ll see you at the church.” And with that, he left the kitchen, leaving me standing there with my mouth hanging open.

Of all the things Dad’s told me not to worry about...things like… _Don’t worry - you’ll hit the target - this gun’s just a lot bigger than what you’re used to…_ or… _Don’t worry - Dean will snap out of the Djinn’s poison spell…_ or… _Don’t worry - we’ll figure out this Demon blood in Sam…_

“Don’t worry - you, too, shall get married”...was _not_ what I _ever_ expected to come out of his mouth.

“Kaaaate! Let’s roll!” 

“Coming!” I called, following her voice into the living room, and then out into the waiting car.

**xxxxx**

Thankfully, I didn’t have to worry about talking. Everyone else was too busy chattering away, giving me some time to think. The plates on the car were for Kansas, so that gave me a starting point. I figured we were in Lawrence, and signs on the street confirmed that.

I was pretty sure this wasn’t a dream, but then again, when Djinn’s prey off their victims, they don’t know they’re in a dream state either, so I guessed that was a possibility. I could be cursed into an alternate reality, but who would curse me? We haven’t had a big case in a few weeks, since both Dean and Dad needed recovery time from their injuries. 

If Dad didn’t hunt, that meant he probably didn’t know Bobby. I could look him up and see if that’ll help, but explaining this would be a bitch. _If_ he’s even a hunter.

I sighed.

And if Dad didn’t hunt, he didn’t know of the Supernatural most likely, which means Sam and Dean didn’t either. A knot formed in my stomach. 

_Goddammit._

I had taken a purse Jess gave me, but didn’t bother to look inside. I’m not reacting in the most smooth fashion, here. Grimacing, I rooted through the bag until I found a phone. I barely contained the shout of joy, as I scrolled through the address book.

There were a ton of names I didn’t know, and Mom only said Mom - no real name, and no picture. Brilliant. But there was Dean’s number, so I dialed him and waited anxiously for a pickup.

“Who are you calling?” One of the girls asked. I dunno which one.

“Dean,” I absently answered.

The car fell very silent, setting off my hunter alarms. I looked up to find every girl in the car staring at me. “What?” I asked.

Then they all turned to one of the brunettes who… _oh._...she’s the one in the picture with Dean. On the mirror.

Oh.

_Shit._

Her face crinkled up. “Why are you calling him? You know he’s all busy with Sam, and told us not to bug them today.”

I hung up, and stammered, “Yeah, yeah, I know. I, um, had a question, though, about...about something Mom’s doing for Jess and...nevermind. I...just got so excited I forgot what I was doing!!”

Big grin, lavish blinking, and finally, deflection. “So where’s that Starbucks, huh?”

That got everyone chattering again about what they wanted to order, whether the whipped cream would make them too fat for their dresses, and I swallowed in relief. I had to pay more attention to who I was with, because obviously, I had a history here, even though I didn’t know it.

I analyzed everyone in the car. The brunette was very pretty, and seemed pleasant and nice. I’m guessing she’s Dean’s girlfriend or…(quick check of her hand - okay, no ring…), so girlfriend. Or fuck of the month, who the hell knows. I tried to follow the conversation, and by the time we pulled into a Starbuck’s drive-thru, I had some things figured out.

Dean’s brunette was named Cassandra, which, given his history with Cassie, I found that kinda funny. The driver was Marinda, and in the back seats with me were Josie and Wendy. I’m not completely sure how we all fit together, but I think we all went to the same school. Which means I went to college and studied...something.

There were many missing pieces of information everyone assumed I had, so fading into the background was the best option to avoid making more mistakes like the phone call. I cradled my mocha to my chest and just listened, figuring I’d go to the bathroom at the salon and root through the rest of my purse, including the pictures on my phone.

“So Cassie,” Marinda began as she pulled back into traffic. “When will Dean pop the question, hmm?”

Everyone giggled, and I choked on my coffee at the image of Dean proposing to anyone, let alone seeing them more than twice in a week.

Cassandra shrugged, a small smile on her lips. “I don’t know. He has that trip to Hawaii planned in a couple weeks...and he’s been talking more and more about the future and kids and stuff. I dunno. Maybe Sam taking the lead is making him think about it more.”

Jess turned in the front seat and smiled at her. “He loves you, Cassie, you know that. He’s been with you for three years, now! He’ll ask! Right, Kate?”

Fuck...all eyes were on me. Maybe I could spill this mocha on my lap and distract them. “Um...yeah. I mean, you know how Dean is. He’s a slow learner.” I figured that was generic enough. Pleased with myself, I dove into my coffee, thinking my contribution was over.

So when Cassandra asked, “Has he said anything to you at all? I mean, you guys are so close…”

This couldn’t be a Djinn world, because in no way was I enjoying this. “No...but if he did, he’d kill me if I told you.” Everyone nodded, and I felt sooo bad when Cassandra’s face fell. So I added, “But he didn’t...and I’d totally rat him out if he did.”

That did the trick, because everyone was back to chattering again, leaving me alone for the rest of the ride.

**xxxxx**

I wasn’t really sure how I felt about Dean dating someone. Which is totally weird and messed up. I mean, I was obviously good with Sam and Jess (in my world) because she and I were good friends. I trusted her with Sam. Dean, though...well. Ever since Cassie in my reality fucked him over, I’ve been really content with him just flitting from girl to girl, never letting it get serious. As tough as Dean presents himself, he’s incredibly sensitive and emotional, and a Hurt Dean is the worst thing to deal with...ever.

I’d have to watch this Cassandra and make sure she’s a good fit for him.

…

But this isn’t my world so I don’t know what the hell I’m worried about.

We parked at the salon, which was some super fancy place that offered all sorts of spa treatments in addition to just cutting hair. We walked inside, and were greeted by an obnoxiously friendly woman who took us in back where stylists were waiting for our arrival.

Let me pause to say that this is, hands down, the most girly thing I’ve ever done in my life outside of getting my period. I have never, _ever,_ spent this much time with estrogen that wasn’t a victim or not human...if monsters even _have_ estrogen.

I’ll have to ask my Sam about that.

Anyway, we were led to a small area, and everyone was claimed by a stylist, except me. I stood awkwardly, toying with the lid of my latte and wondering if this was a good time to slip off to the bathroom, when a large, bald, African American man approached me. “Well hello, there. You can come sit with me over here.” He waved to a chair off on the side, completely apart from everyone else.

After a quick glance at Jess, who was animatedly talking with her stylist about some Roman-esque updo (whatever the fuck that is), I nodded, flashed him a quick smile, and followed him to the chair. I’ll run to the bathroom later.

The stylist began talking, while idly brushing my hair. “You look very out of place. Aren’t you excited about the wedding?”

I set my drink on the counter and sat back with a huff. “No...I mean yes - I’m… I’m super excited. Just...yeah...feeling a little out of place, this morning.”

He nodded knowingly, and paused the brushing to place both hands on the back of my chair. I looked in the mirror and narrowed my eyes. “You look familiar. Which, believe me, is a very odd thing for me today.”

He smiled, and I felt a chill down my spine. The smile wasn’t friendly. “I _should_ look familiar, Kate. We met last night. In Mr. Singer’s living room.” I sat up straight and sucked in a breath. One of his enormous hands clamped down on my shoulder, keeping me in my seat. “Do you remember now?”

My mind raced - the BBQ, Jo and Ellen, Sam singing karaoke, I went inside… _Uriel!_

“Your name is Uriel,” I offered, in a shaky voice. Through the mirror, I glanced at the girls, all oblivious to this exchange.

Uriel shook the chair, forcing my attention back to him. Nodding slowly, he said, “That’s right. You do remember, despite all that drinking. That’s promising, Kate. It really is.”

“What’s going on? What are you?” I demanded. I wasn’t about to offer ideas or suggestions - I figured he should just tell me straight out what was what.

“What am I? I’m an angel, Kate. A _real_ angel, who understands true consequences of actions.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Uriel _tsk-tsk’d_ and pulled my hair. “Language, young lady. It means that angels are not meant to consort with humans, and it means that humans are supposed to play their assigned parts in celestial prophecies.” He leaned down, and whispered in my ear. “They are not to deviate from the plan.”

I glared at him through the mirror. He was taking a dig at Castiel, that much I could tell. But the rest of it…”What role am I supposed to play?”

He straightened and fussed with my hair. “A backseat role. But instead, you’re a major player, now, and that’s no good. So I decided to teach you a lesson, so you understand exactly what your presence impacts, so you can make better choices in the future. I’m letting you see the different paths that were created because of you.”

Now, I’m a fairly intelligent person. But Uriel wasn’t making sense to me. “How is my existence my fault? And wouldn’t these paths exist even without me? Or are you saying there’s always only been one path, which kinda defies modern scientific theory. Not to mention that these paths were in motion before I was even born.” I’m kinda cheeky when being messed with.

Uriel sneered, and I swore the room got darker. “Enjoy figuring out every world you enter.”

“How do I get home?”

Uriel snapped his fingers, and my hair was pulled into a bun, with curly tendrils bouncing past my temples. “You don’t.”

Then he left.

**xxxxx**

Normally, I’m the calm one in the family. I tend to take things in stride, try not to make waves, and look at all options carefully before making decisions. Right now, though, I was in full on panic mode. I was with my family, but completely alone.

Fucking angels.

Castiel did say there was some contention in heaven, so I’m guessing this is part of it. And perhaps my...interest...in Castiel got someone’s attention. It would explain why he hasn’t really been around.

My heart hammering in my chest, I fumbled for my phone and began scrolling through the pictures. Lots of people I didn’t know, some scenery, and…

_Oh._

Sarah - _my_ mom - was sitting in the living room of that house with Dad. They were posing with Sam and Jess, with Jess holding out her hand. I’m guessing her engagement ring is on it.

Well, that answers one question.

Other pictures were of Dean making stupid faces, Sam trying to hide from me, and another...was of the three of us, sitting on the Impala. 

At least she’s still around.

I peeked in the mirror to check on the girls - they were all still being worked on, so I decided to check the address book. Aside from family, I didn’t recognize the names. Bobby, Rufus, Ellen, Jo...not even Adam...were there.

Sighing, I shoved the phone back in my bag and gnawed on a nail. Okay. So if this is really happening, and I’m really here...then there’s nothing I can do but go along with everything. Today is a clusterfuck because of the wedding. But tomorrow...tomorrow I can figure out something.

**xxxxx**

By the time we got to the church, I felt more nauseous than in the salon. I was going to see my brothers, and they won’t even know who I am. My mom never showed, instead texting Jess saying that she’d see us at the church.

As Miranda pulled into the parking lot, I squinted at the building. It looked a little familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it.

Everyone skittered inside, with me cautiously following behind. Churches mean holy ground, so at least no demons will be here.

I followed the group into one of the back rooms, where bridal gowns were hung on a wall. Cue more squealing and excited chatter.

What really really sucked, was that this event should be incredibly happy and exciting. We all wanted Sam to marry Jess, even though we were hunting. We wanted them happy, we wanted Sam-Jess rugrats and the whole deal. Now, I’m getting that moment, and I’m so happy to see Jess again… _alive._..and it’s all tainted with the knowledge that while real, it isn’t real.

“It’s real, Kate. Of that, you can be sure.” 

I whipped around.

_Castiel._

I was about to launch myself into his arms, but he held up a hand and nodded at the girls. “They can’t see or hear me. So act...casual...and think your words instead.”

_What the holy fuck is going on, Cas? What do you mean this is real? It’s not my real! Do you know that Uriel is behind this? Is my family, in my world, okay?_

Cas’s eyes widened and he blinked a few times at the barrage of questions.

“Kate! Let’s get dressed!”

“In a minute,” I called over my shoulder. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Well, hurry up!”

Yeah yeah - that’s all I’ve been told today. “I will!” I said, gesturing with my head for Cas to follow me.

I led him into the hallway and backtracked to a bathroom I saw on the way to the gown room. I opened the door, waited for him to enter, then slammed it shut and locked the door. In an urgent whisper, I ground out, “What is going on! Why is Uriel so pissed at me?”

Cas sighed, and leaned against the sink. “There are many different things in play right now, Kate. One of which, yes, is Uriel. He was ordered to sever my ties with you.” Sad, blue eyes looked at me. “I wasn’t supposed to meet with you until...until other events occurred. I...intervened at Adam’s house when I shouldn’t have. So now, you are being punished for my impatience.”

I blinked at him. “And the other layers of bullshit?”

Cas winced. “I told you there were warring factions in heaven. The side Uriel represents wants the Apocalypse to occur, and they feel that interfering with you will ensure that event.”

I threw my hands into the air. “I told you, I’m not that important to this storyline! Yes, okay, I’m important to my family, but that’s it! I have no influence anywhere else!”

Cas tilted his head to the side. “And you have no understanding how important the Winchester line is. Kate, I cannot undo the spell Uriel cast. It simply must run its course. In the meantime, your family in your world is safe and asleep. They have no idea this is happening.”

“Well, wake them the fuck up and tell them so they can figure out how to get me home!”

Another fucking sigh. “I can’t do that. Your world is in a slight time stasis right now - where time is moving a bit slower. _Your_ consciousness is _here,_ in _this_ Kate’s body, and _this_ Kate’s soul is _there,_ sleeping. Every Kate you inhabit will swap places with you. If your real body wakes, then every consciousness you encounter during this spell will be faced with your world, and most likely will never recover from the shock.”

I slid down the wall to the floor, my head in my hands. “Oh my God. How long will I be stuck here?”

“In this world? I have no idea. How many other worlds? Again, I am unsure. I am meeting with the opposition, and we’ll try to figure something out.” He slid to the floor next to me and took my hand in his. “I’m so very sorry, Kate. I will try to find you every time you shift into another world. If I can, I will fill you in on the circumstances. If I can’t...I will find someone who can. It’s all I can do for now.”

I blinked back tears and wiped my nose. “Okay. Well. At least I’m not in danger, right? I’m just in a wedding.” I huffed a laugh and thunked my head against the wall. “Wait - will Uriel interfere with these timelines? Or the boys in my world while I’m leaping all over the place?”

Cas shook his head. “I don’t believe so. As monumental as this seems right now, it’s actually barely noticeable in your world.” He hung his head. “I truly am sorry. This is my fault.”

I took his hand in mine and squeezed it. “Yeah, well, it’s okay. I just have amazing taste in boyfriends.” He looked up at me, eyebrows raised. “I mean, not that you’re my boyfriend. I’m just saying...I mean…” 

He smiled. “I know what you mean. And I’m afraid that my...interest in you is what caused this to happen in the first place.” His eyes got that faraway look, and I knew what was coming. “I have to go.” He hauled me to my feet and stared into my eyes. “Be careful.”

And then I was alone.

**xxxxx**

I slowly walked back into the gown room, deciding that if I’m really stuck here, for now, I should make the best of it. There’s nothing to fight, nothing I can do but...enjoy the wedding that should’ve taken place in my world. I mentally shook myself, and walked into the room, only to stop and stare.

There was Jess, in the middle of the room, in her wedding gown. I have no idea what the correct terms are to describe her dress. There were sparkling things, and it hugged her in all the right places, and the train ran the length of the room. 

She was fucking beautiful. 

“Oh, Jess,” I breathed, and I felt the tears well in my eyes. 

“What do you think?” She asked, a huge smile on her face. She twirled a little, and everyone looked to me for some sort of approval.

All I could say was, “You look perfect. Absolutely...perfect.” Then the tears fell. They fell for my Sam, who would never see this. They fell for my Dean, who deserved this. They fell for my Dad, because he had this, and it was taken away.

“Oh goodness, Kate, you’d think _you_ were giving her away today!” 

That voice was like a splash of ice cold water on my face. I spun around, and there stood… _my_ mom. An older version of her, but still her, and not drugged out or as a hideous monster.

“Mom…” I breathed, and I buried myself in her arms.

“What in the world...Kate Winchester, are you alright?” She laughed as she hugged me, but I could hear the worry.

I straightened and wiped my eyes, aware of everyone staring at the weirdo sister-in-law-to-be sobbing at a wedding gown. “Yeah, just...emotional day, you know?”

Good grief.

Mom nodded and put her hands on my arms. “Come on, sweetie - let’s get your makeup done, and then get you into your dress!”

**xxxxx**

When all the face painting and dressing up was finished, I had to admit...I was smokin’. I mean, I know there’s all this hype about bridesmaid dresses and stuff, but these were really pretty, and I looked pretty darn good in it. I was admiring myself in the mirror, alone in one of the dressing rooms, forgetting that I was in an alternate universe and just sort of...enjoying this...when I heard sighing behind me.

“Wow...you look great, sis.”

I froze, wishing the mirror were angled a little better so I wasn’t caught off guard. I’m still a fucking hunter, I chastised myself, as I turned around.

There stood Dean, all dressed up in a tuxedo, his hair a little longer than what I’m used to, and his eyes...like Dad’s...lacked that haunted look.

“Hey…” I was torn between running to him and keeping my distance. I wasn’t sure what kind of relationship we had here. Cassandra said we were close but…

“Don’t I get a hug or anything?”

...well, okay then. I carefully walked over (fucking heels) and gave him a hug, squeezing tight once I felt his arms around me. It doesn’t matter if it’s my Dean or AU Dean...Dean hugs are Dean hugs. He chuckled and kissed the top of my head. “I can’t believe they’re finally getting married.”

You have noooooo idea.

“Heh...yeah. It’s...yeah.” I stepped back and stared at the floor. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

Dean gave me a weird look. “What do you mean? You thought they’d break up?”

I have _got_ to stop talking out loud. I shook my head. “Nonono, just...wow! It’s here already! Time flies!” Am I destined to look like a moron in every universe?

He nodded slowly, looking at me like I lost my mind. “Yeah...okay. Dad was lookin’ for you. Said you were a little weird this morning...wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Ha-haaaaaaaaa….”I’m fine. Too much to drink last night, that’s all.” I gave him that fake smile I’ve been making all day, and to my surprise, it worked.

He shook his head. “Two Bicardi Breezes and you’re done. Such a lightweight.”

I opened my mouth to object, and point out that I actually consumed more than my fair share of beer, not to mention a few shots...but that wasn’t this last night. So lightweight drinker it is. “Yeah, well. You know me!”

Dean laughed. “C’mon. Let’s get upstairs. Sam’ll want to see you before we start.”

He took my hand and led me out of the room. 

In the hallway, he leaned down and murmured, “Hey. Your time will come, Kate. Don’t worry.”

What the fuck _is_ this? Is this Kate whining about being single? Am I allowed to bitchslap my alternate self? Rolling my eyes, I said, “Not a big deal, Dean. Cassandra is wondering when you’re poppin’ the question. So maybe look within, Grasshopper, instead of at me.”

Dean stopped, eyes wide and faced me. “You didn’t tell her the plan, did you?”

I scoffed, playing the part of someone who really knows what’s going on. “Of course not! She is suspecting your Hawaii trip, though.”

“Ha! Perfect. Hopefully she’ll keep thinkin’ that.”

We went upstairs, and saw everyone but the bride gathered in the front hallway area. Towering over everyone else, was Sam, looking nervous as hell, but happy. _Really_ happy. He was talking to Mom and Dad, and looked up when we walked in. 

He excused himself and practically ran over. “Hey...wow...you look great!” He grinned and enveloped me in a huge hug. 

Those mixed emotions slammed me once again - happiness that this Sam is marrying Jess, but heartbreak that my Sam lost her forever. I squeezed him back, and forced myself not to cry. “Thanks! You look so...handsome and...awesome. Both of you.”

They both blushed, grinning like little kids who just got a boatload of candy.

“I know you’re supposed to be with Jess, but...I wanted to see you first.”

I honestly didn’t know what to say. I was facing my rocks - my constants - and they weren’t my constants...and I was just at a loss for words. So I just stood there, and smiled at them, drinking in their innocence, their joy, their youth.

“Let’s get a quick family photo, okay folks? Stand together…”

The photographer began ordering us around, and soon Dad, Mom, Dean, Sam and I were all together, grinning like idiots for the camera. 

What I wouldn’t give to have a copy of that photo.

**xxxxx**

The ceremony was perfect and beautiful, and I did cry starting about halfway through. Well, shit, so was everyone else! I was beginning to hope that my time here would never end...that...that I could make this reality work for me. My mind wandered towards the end of the ceremony, as I watched Sam kiss Jess, Dean wink at Cassandra, and Dad holding Mom’s hand.

Yeah, I really could.

And that’s when I spied Pastor Jim in the congregation, and that’s when I remembered where I’ve seen this church before.

Sam had some old photos from before Dad added me to the family. They were of this church, and a priest called Pastor Jim, who was also a hunter. He helped Dad from time to time with the boys when Bobby’s was too far away, and he was a good friend.

It occurred to me...Pastor Jim’s involvement with hunting had nothing to do with Dad...so if magic and monsters existed here, perhaps Pastor Jim was still a hunter. And if so...he could help. He would understand.

The rest of the service passed in a blur, and it was difficult to appear like I was totally enraptured, while also calculating what to do next.

Sam told me about Jim’s hidden storeroom, way in the back, behind what looked like a closet. I figured I’d check there, and if Jim was indeed a hunter, then I’d talk with him.

We exited the church, the rice flew, and the happy couple climbed into their limo. I turned to Dad, “When do we need to be at the hall?”

He checked his watch. “There’s time. You’re supposed to get pictures taken, though.”

I flapped a hand at him, my eyes on the entryway to the church. “Yeah...I know. I need to get something I left behind. I’ll be right back.”

“Hurry up,” Dad ordered, as I removed my heels and flew up the front steps.

I waved over my shoulder, and heard Dean asking, “Where’s she goin’?”

I ran towards the altar, and off to the right, to the rooms behind. I stopped right outside the door, took a deep breath, and went inside. No one was there. The room looked like a huge closet, with several priest robes hanging neatly along one wall, and other accessories along another. Sam said you had to move the robes aside, and the secret door was there.

I checked behind several robes, and was about to give up, until I found an alcove in the room, where a short closet pole was braced between two walls. Swallowing hard, I walked towards the robes, and slid them apart. There, in front of me, was a door, marked with a Devil’s Trap.

_Yahtzee._

“May I help you with something?”

I turned around and there stood Pastor Jim, holding a bottle of what I assumed was holy water. I held up my hands. “Pastor Jim, right?”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Kate, you know who I am. Unless you aren’t Kate Winchester.” Then he flung holy water at me, which, of course, just got me wet.

I grimaced and wiped the dripping water off my face, noting the confused look on his face. “I’m not possessed, Pastor, but I’m not exactly Kate Winchester...at least not _your_ Kate Winchester.”

“Okay...keep talking…” He tried to stealthily pull a knife from his pocket, presumably silver.

I sighed and held out my arm. “I’m not a shifter either. Cut me and see for yourself.”

Jim’s eyes widened, and he took a quick swipe at me, making a two inch cut on my forearm. Other than a mild sting, I had no real reaction, making him even more confused. “Listen...I don’t have a lot of time before someone comes looking for me. I _am_ Kate Winchester, but from another universe. I got zapped here by...well, by an angel, who’s a little pissed off with me.”

“Angels? Really?” His voice held a touch of disbelief.

I put my hands on my hips. “You believe in demons, why not angels? Look - in my world, we discovered them about a year ago. Some are okay, others not so much. In my world, John Winchester is one of the best hunters alive. And you helped him get started when the boys were little.”

Jim’s eyes got wider. “You know about hunting? How -- “

I had to get this story down to a science or I was gonna be wasting a lot of time in the future. “Sam and Dean’s real mom - it’s not Sarah, right? It’s Mary?”

Jim nodded, slipping the knife back into his pocket.

“Well, in my world, Mary was killed by a yellow-eyed demon, sending John on the hunting path. Look - we can sit and play catch-up later. I just...I’m just relieved that you hunt. After this wedding, can we meet and talk? I need to get back to my own world, and I don’t have a clue how to do that, especially since my whole family doesn’t hunt, here!”

Jim looked plain flustered, and I was practically panting from talking so fast. I felt like I was dumping the summary of a novel that you can normally read on the back cover of a book. He fumbled with the cap from the bottle of holy water and nodded. “Yes, we can...we can talk later. I may even call for some help.”

Hope sparked. “Do you know a Bobby Singer?”

His brow furrowed. “Singer? No...I don’t, I’m sorry.”

I waved him off. “That’s okay - it was a long shot.”

“So...you are Kate, but not the Kate that belongs in this world, and you hunt in your world, with John, Sam, and Dean?”

I nodded, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Huh. We definitely need to talk, then. But for now…”

“Kate! Where are you? We need you for pictures!”

Jim shoved the water aside just as Dean walked in. “What - oh, hey Jim. Have you seen - Kate? What’re you doing? Why are you wet, and what the heck happened to your arm??”

I looked down, the cut from the silver knife was bleeding. “Oh...um…”

“Kate cut herself when she tripped near the baptismal font, and splashed water on herself.” I stared at Jim, who lied as smoothly as my Dean does. But what a ridiculous story. He’ll never -

“Geez, Kate, you’re such a klutz!” Dean pulled out a handkerchief and wrapped my arm with it.

“Let me get my first aid kit. I’m sure I have a bandaid in there.” Jim went back into the larger room, and pulled a lunchbox med kit from under a table. I pretended not to notice the inscriptions along the side.

As Jim pulled out medical supplies, and Dean made these mother hen clucking noises at me, I started to feel light headed.

“Kate?? Kate - are you okay? Shit - she’s gonna faint!”

Then everything went black.

**xxxxx**

I woke to someone shaking me. Really, really fucking hard. I snapped, “I know, I know - we have to take pictures!” I was trying to force my eyes open, but they felt really heavy.

“Pictures? For fuck’s sake, Kate, wake up. They’re coming, and we have to run!”

That did it. My eyes snapped open, and bending over me was… _fuck...Mary Winchester,_ a frantic look on her face. “Hurry up - the boys are watching the front door, but they’ll be here any minute!”

“What? Who - “

“The demons, Kate! Wake the fuck up and get moving!” Dad bellowed at me as he ran through the room, loading a shotgun with what I guessed were salt rounds.

I struggled out of bed, just as Mary threw a backpack at me.

“Out the back door, now! Run!”

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is a little rough. Just sayin’.

**_Previously, on Quantum AU…_ **

I woke to someone shaking me. Really, really fucking hard. I snapped, “I know, I know - we have to take pictures!” I was trying to force my eyes open, but they felt really heavy.

“Pictures? For fuck’s sake, Kate, wake up. They’re coming, and we have to run!”

That did it. My eyes snapped open, and bending over me was… _fuck...Mary Winchester_ , a frantic look on her face. “Hurry up - the boys are watching the front door, but they’ll be here any minute!”

“What? Who - “

“The demons, Kate! Wake the fuck up and get moving!” Dad bellowed at me as he ran through the room, loading a shotgun with what I guessed were salt rounds.

I struggled out of bed, just as Mary threw a backpack at me.

“Out the back door, now! Run!”

**XXXXX**

**_Now…_ **

I barely caught the backpack before Mary pushed me towards a doorway. I plowed through it, finding myself in a wooded backyard, with no fucking clue where to go. I skidded to a halt, eyes scanning every which way, trying to determine which way I was supposed to run. I heard a screechy whooshing noise, and when I looked up, I almost passed out again.

Swirls of black smoke circled above the house, zigzagging and crisscrossing so much that to try and follow the patterns meant nausea for sure.

“Quit staring and fucking run!” Mary blew past me, grabbing my arm and dragging me behind her. We plunged into the trees and it was all I could do to keep my balance and keep up.

“Dad…” I started, just as a branch smacked me in the face, shutting me up.

“Don’t worry about him. You know the drill. He’ll find us. Keep moving!”

Her grip didn’t lessen the further we got from the house. I had absolutely no sense of where we were. By now, I was fully awake and tuned into my surroundings, but the terrain was so unfamiliar and we were moving so fast, I had no opportunity to place any landmarks.

After several minutes, Mary slowed down, finger on her lips indicating silence (no shit). She moved us stealthily between the trees, her footing so sure that I knew this route was planned. Eventually we came to what appeared to be a dense cluster of trees and bushes. And at a casual glance, that’s exactly what it was. But I wasn’t looking at it casually.

Something was off with the whole arrangement. And sure enough, Mary dropped my hand, walked to the third tree on the right, and simply pushed the trunk aside, waving me past it.

Eyes wide and heart hammering, I went through the tiny opening, and found myself in a small “room”. Mary followed me inside and sealed up the secret doorway behind us.

It was completely dark, I had no idea where my dad and brothers were, and I was standing in a secret hiding spot with someone who, in my reality, has been dead for twenty-four years. I was a thankful for one minute of not-running-for-my-life so I could process everything.

Obviously I shifted or phased or leaped, or whatever science fiction term applied to what I was doing. Last thing I remember was feeling dizzy at the church. Maybe that was the warning signal that I was moving on? I figured I’d know when I left this world.

So far, I had no interaction with Dad or the boys, so I couldn’t tell what they were like. Obviously, they hunt. Obviously, we were in a life threatening situation. 

Not so obviously was this million dollar question: How did I enter this picture if Mary isn’t dead?

Speaking of Mary, I couldn’t see her, but I felt her presence. She was standing close to me, not touching, but close enough so I could feel her breath on my hair. There was a faint smell of whiskey and sweat, which I’d always attributed to Dad. I swallowed hard and bit my lip to keep from blurting out a dozen questions which would not only make me look stupid, but would also make me look suspicious. If we were dealing with major demon activity, the last thing I wanted was appear possessed to a wartime Dad.

Call me brilliant, but something told me that life in this reality was not easy.

After a few minutes, Mary let out a breath, and tugged on my sleeve. She sat on the ground and kept tugging until I did the same. Once seated, her hand gripped my elbow tight enough to make me want to cry out. Her mouth was against my ear, and she breathed, “The next time you don’t fucking run when I tell you to fucking run, I’ll clip you myself and let the demons have you. Prophecy be damned. Got me?”

_Whoa…_

I nodded, swallowing really hard.

She nodded back and let go of me, giving my arm a little shove. I resisted the urge to massage what I suspected would turn into a major bruise. 

Okay.

_Okayokayokay._

I’m running for my life from demons and my only source of knowledge is hostile. Fanfuckingtastic.

I fervently wished for Dad and the boys to hurry up so I could start piecing this reality together.

**xxxxx**

I have no idea how long we sat there, but if I had to guess, I’d go with about half an hour. That’s thirty minutes of me sitting on the cold ground next to someone whose hate I could feel from a foot away.

Finally, I felt her move, so I sharpened every sense I had to figure out why. 

It didn’t take long.

There was faint rustling outside the shelter, I turned toward the sound and held my breath. Mary slowly got to her feet. I was about to follow until I felt a hand on my shoulder, pushing me down, so I stayed put.

There was another rustling noise, then another, and I realized there was a pattern to the sounds. Mary did too, because she opened the shelter flap and stepped outside. 

“Everything okay?” She asked.

“Yeah, barely. Killed four, the rest took off. Just wanted to make sure they were gone before coming after you.” 

_Dad._

I wanted to run outside and into his arms, but I remembered that I wanted to run outside and into the arms of _my_ dad. I had no idea whether _this_ John Winchester even liked me.

“C’mon out, Kate,” Mary ordered. 

Clutching the backpack to my chest, I crawled outside and stood up, stretching my cramped muscles. In the moonlight, I could see Dad, looking even more battle-worn than in my world. He had grimace lines on his face, and a hardness to him that made my heart ache. Mary stood apart from him, arms folded across her chest, eyes scanning the area.

Figuring I needed to say something, I asked, “Where are the boys?”

“Here,” a voice said, and two boys emerged from the trees behind Dad.

I almost… _almost._..went to them. Except…

There was Dean, tall and muscular, with a patch over one eye and an ugly scar blanketing the same (right) side of his face. His eyes were narrowed, his stance tense. He looked young, like twenty or so.

That made me wonder - was I traveling through time as well as realities?

Apparently I was, because next to Dean stood...Adam. A very young Adam, maybe twelve? Thirteen? Just as tense, just as angry, just as unfriendly.

And no Sam.

No one seemed concerned that he was missing, so I didn’t ask. I knew I’d have to figure that one out on my own.

Dean took a step towards me, and stupid me, thinking he was going for a hug, took a step towards him, a small smile forming on my face. Until his sneer stopped me, melting the smile right the fuck off. “Next time Mom tells you to move, _you fucking move._ I’m not gonna die because you’re too stupid to follow directions.” For one second, I thought he was actually going to hit me. But instead, he shook his head, rolled his eyes, and turned away.

I think hitting me would’ve been preferable to the cold way he looked at me. And Dad said nothing to help.

Thinking fast, I stammered, “I...I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Adam’s expression softened a little. “Let’s get to the next outpost. It isn’t safe out here.”

Dad nodded, shouldered a bag, and gestured with his head. “Let’s go.”

I followed behind Dean and Adam, noting that despite all the threats, I wasn’t last in line, which I found odd. Mary led the way, and Dad brought up the rear.

There was no opportunity for conversation, and no way I was remotely comfortable holding one, so I kept my mouth shut and walked. After I got in the rhythm of nighttime forest walking, I started doing some math. If Dean looked around twenty, and Adam looked around twelve, then that means I’m about fourteen. That explains why, in the moonlight, the ground doesn’t look so far away.

Despite the body change, I managed to keep my footing and not stumble, which probably would’ve earned me more scolding. Adam let Dean pass him, and walked next to me. He leaned over and whispered, “You’re doing a lot better, tonight.”

_Well, sure. This consciousness has almost ten more years of terrain walking experience._ I flashed a quick grin, hoping the friendly attitude would continue. “I’m trying not to get in trouble.”

He nodded, then added, “Maybe try that more often.” He jogged a little, resuming his spot behind Mary, leaving me sighing and wishing for a dizzy spell to get me out of here.

Dad pushed me a little from behind. “Keep moving.”

**xxxxx**

When we were kids, Dad taught us how to gauge distance while walking. In my defence, I was too disoriented to focus when Mary first woke me. Now, though, I was completely “on”, and I sent a silent thanks to Dad for all his training.

We walked for at least ten miles, so at about fifteen minutes a mile, that put us two and a half hours later. The moon was crescent shaped, so I connected the “horns” of the shape, marking South, so I knew we were walking West.

Part of me wanted to share all this with the family, since I gathered that this Kate wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, let alone the most skilled. But I couldn’t make things worse for her when she returned, so again, I kept my mouth shut and continued walking.

We hit a field, full of swaying prairie grass. In the middle of the field sat a cabin, no lights, no signs of life, nothing. Why put a safe house in the middle of an open field?

We stopped, catching our breath, and Dad pulled one of those cell phones that doubles as a walkie-talkie out of his pocket. He hit a couple buttons, then snapped, “We’re here.”

There was a quiet breeze, and the grass swayed a bit more. On closer inspection, the grass actually moved...like, parted almost...providing a path for us to follow.

Dad shoved the phone back in his pocket and nodded towards the cabin. “Let’s go. Stay on the path.”

Mary led the way across the field, following the twists and turns before us. I was extra careful not to stray, sure that I didn’t want to know what would happen if I did.

We reached the door, and Mary pounded on it with her fist. Dean crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the moon. No one would make eye contact with me. I shifted my backpack and held it tighter against my chest. 

To say I hated this reality was an understatement.

The door opened, and we all stepped inside. It slammed shut behind us, and as the various locks and switches were activated, I chanced a look around. 

We stood in a kitchen, a table and chairs occupying most of the space. Dean went straight for the fridge, asking, ”Got any beer?” as he whipped the door open.

“Basement. Don’t keep that shit up here.”

I whipped around at that voice. _Bobby!_

He had no beard, and no baseball cap, but it was still Bobby. Same gruff exterior, same, crabby tone, same -- 

“What the fuck are you lookin’ at?”

\-- same nothing.

I swallowed my sigh and stared at the floor. “Nothing,” I answered.

“Damn right, it’s at nothing. Jesus Christ, John, how do you deal with her all the fucking time?”

Dad shook his head. “No fucking clue, Rob. Sometimes I wonder if we shoulda let Lucifer have her all those years ago.”

Dean piped up, “At least then Sam would still be here.”

There was a collective grunt of agreement, before Mary cut them off. “Let’s head downstairs and regroup.”

Everyone started moving before I was done processing. Did they really not care that I was _right fucking there?_

Apparently not.

This time, I was last in line to hit the basement. Mary pointed at a small cot in a corner. “Go sit down, and stay out of the way.”

Nodding, I cautiously walked to the questionable bed, and sat down, scooting until my back was against the wall but so I could see the whole room.

No one else was there, so it was easy to keep track of conversations and movement. The last thing I wanted was for one of them deciding I should be with Lucifer, whatever the hell that means (and hey - Lucifer is _real??_ Come on...). I took this opportunity to slow my heart rate so I didn’t go into cardiac arrest, and began rooting through my backpack for clues.

Inside, I found an old leather journal, weathered and cracked. It kinda looked like Dad’s journal, but it was a different color. Inside, I found entries written by, well, me.   
_  
May 1  
Well, tomorrow is Sam’s birthday and everyone is in a bad mood. When isn’t everyone in a bad mood? They still blame me for his death. But they’re wrong. I had no choice but to make that deal. Don’t they understand that Lucifer can’t rise from Hell? They’re so fucking dumb. I hate them.   
_  
My hand flew to my mouth. Oh God…  
 _  
May 5  
The brat’s birthday wasn’t so bad this year. Dean got too drunk to fuck me, but Adam didn’t. Adam’s gentler anyway, so I didn’t mind. Mary was so plastered, she passed out while Dad was fucking her. How do I know? He yelled at her right when he figured it out. Too funny. I hope he hits her later.  
_  
Bile rose in my throat.  
 _  
June 24  
Lucifer tried to reach me in my dreams, again. But I was ready for him. I sleep with a silver knife under my pillow, now, and I trained myself to act even though he tries to keep me unconscious. I stabbed my side, and woke up. Then I was able to ward myself better. I was aiming for my arm, but I guess I don’t have the best aim when asleep, huh? I almost hit Dean instead. That’s what he gets for sneaking in my bed at night. He probably won’t do that again. Asshole.  
_  
After making sure no one was watching, I lifted my shirt, and sure enough, there was a scar on my right side. From the looks of it, it wasn’t that old, so today’s date can’t be that far away from June 24.  
 __  
July 23  
We’re almost at the site. I can feel it calling me. I’m ready for the ritual. But I don’t trust Dad or that bitch he revived to not let me die. So I had to make alternate plans for my own survival. I guess if there’s an entry in here after August 14, you’ll know it worked out.  
  
Sick. That’s how I felt. Absolutely sick. That was the last entry, and I couldn’t bring myself to read any earlier. I set the book aside and, with shaking hands, searched the rest of the bag. To my surprise, I found Bear, ripped and filthy, but there, shoved in the bottom corner. I held him tight, figuring he wasn’t something that could be evil. There wasn’t much else of interest - a t-shirt, a seriously old candy bar, and a crumpled up piece of paper. 

I patted down my pockets - no knife. Maybe I left it behind in that house? Under the pillow? This Kate will be downright pissed when she figures that out. Sighing, I shoved everything back in the bag and leaned against the wall, using every ounce in me not to cry.

I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. I can’t stay here. I cannot, for another second, stay here. Never in my life have I wished to be dizzy.

But nothing happened.

Pulling my knees to my chest, I leaned my head against my arms and watched the others. Everyone was talking in low voices, beers in hand and casting glances my way every once in a while. At one point, Dean licked his lips and leered at me, mouthing “Later” at me.

Kill me now.

I rubbed my temples, noticing a headache blooming behind my eyes. I was so busy wallowing in self-pity that I almost missed the ruffle of feathers.

_Almost._

Looking up, I saw Castiel blink into sight.

“‘Bout time, Cas. Where’ve you been?” Dad demanded, slamming his beer on a small table.

“Busy, Winchester. I’m not your servant.” This Castiel was tougher. He didn’t stare at these humans all doe-eyed, and his speech lacked that hesitant lilt I was fond of. If I didn’t fear for my life, I would have laughed at Castiel in a leather jacket and jeans.

Not that he looked bad in them, it just didn’t fit his persona.

Well. _My_ Castiel’s persona.

His brow furrowed, and he turned towards me. He raised his chin at me. “Who are you?”

_Oh goddamn fucking fuck…_

Mary stepped up to him. “What do you mean, Cas?”

He pointed at me. “That’s not Kate. At least not _your_ Kate.”

All eyes were now on me, and if hostile was what I felt earlier, it paled in comparison to what I felt now. I pressed myself against the wall, even though there was not even an inch of space for me to crawl into and hide.

Dean pushed his way past Cas and grabbed me by the arms, hauling me to my feet. “He asked you a question, bitch!”

My mind raced, trying to find the best way to explain this. “I _am_ Kate...just...just not _your_ Kate. I’m from another universe...”

Then something happened that I never, in a million years, thought would happen.

Dean slapped me, hard, right across the face, then dropped me onto the cot. He pulled his gun and primed it. “Say the word, Cas, and I’ll waste her right now.”

My head slammed against the wall, and the room spun. 

Cas grated, “Do it.”

I’m pretty sure I heard the gun go off before I lost consciousness.

**XXXXX**

When I woke, I woke with style. Flailing arms, screaming, crying, the whole nine yards. I couldn’t stop. Panic coursed through me, along with the sound of that gun echoing in my head.

“What the hell, Kate? Calm down! It’s okay - you’re dreaming! Jesus Christ you gave me a heart attack!”

_Sam?!_ I opened my eyes, and there he was, worry and amusement all over his face. “Sam!” I yelled, launching myself in his arms, and sobbing like a baby.

“Whoa! Dude - you’re not little anymore!” He chuckled, and held me close, resting his chin on my head and rocking back and forth.

Truth be told, it took me a while to settle down. I mean, just a second ago Sam was dead, and I made that happen. Dean was a child rapist and probably just killed my other me because my love interest told him to. 

I figured I deserved a five minute meltdown.

Sam kissed the top of my head and pulled away to look into my eyes. “All okay, now? Can I go to class without worrying about you ending up in a hospital or something?” He gently wiped my eyes and smiled that fucking Sam smile. 

“Fuck, Sam, I had the worst dream ever. You were dead, and...um.. _class?_ ”

 

**xxxx TBC xxxx**


	4. Chapter 4

**_Previously, in Quantum AU…_ **

When I woke, I woke with style. Flailing arms, screaming, crying, the whole nine yards. I couldn’t stop. Panic coursed through me, along with the sound of that gun echoing in my head.

“What the hell, Kate? Calm down! It’s okay - you’re dreaming! Jesus Christ you gave me a heart attack!”

_Sam?!_ I opened my eyes, and there he was, worry and amusement all over his face. “Sam!” I yelled, launching myself in his arms, and sobbing like a baby.

“Whoa! Dude - you’re not little anymore!” He chuckled, and held me close, resting his chin on my head and rocking back and forth.

Truth be told, it took me a while to settle down. I mean, just a second ago Sam was dead, and I made that happen. Dean was a child rapist and probably just killed my other me because my love interest told him to. 

I figured I deserved a five minute meltdown.

Sam kissed the top of my head and pulled away to look into my eyes. “All okay, now? Can I go to class without worrying about you ending up in a hospital or something?” He gently wiped my eyes and smiled that fucking Sam smile. 

“Fuck, Sam, I had the worst dream ever. You were dead, and...um… _class?_ ”

 

xxxxx

**_Now…_ **

Sam laughed. “Yeah - I have class in…” He glanced at his watch. “...half an hour.” Hazel eyes were trained back on me. “I’m obviously not dead now, so...all good?”

All good? I’m so far from “all good” that I almost laughed out loud. Sam’s not dead, that much is obvious, so things were already a little better. I peeked past him. 

We were in a normal looking apartment. He said he’s going to class. That’s good. Right? This doesn’t look like cause for panic.

_Right?_

I bit my lip and carefully extracted myself from him. “Yeah… _yeah_ , I’m, um...fine. You...you go to... class? Yeah, class. All’s good. Wide awake now. No worries!” I gave him a big, fat, fake smile.

He tilted his head, eyes narrowed and assessing. “You wanna go with me?”

I swallowed. Stay close to a seemingly nice Sam, in a seemingly normal reality, while I figure out what the deal is?

“Can I?”

He ruffled my hair. “Sure thing.”

Sam got up and began shoving a binder and books into a backpack. While he was occupied, I slowly stood and took a couple steps.

“Get your shoes on and stuff, okay? Maybe bring that book you have to read for your English class, since I don’t think you’ve even started it yet.” 

He was using this authoritative tone, which was odd, because _holy fucking shit how old am I?_

I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror by the front door. I was, like, twelve? And okay, I know I was a teenager in that last fucked up reality, but I didn’t actually see what I looked like. This…this was…

I don’t even know what this was.

I just stared at my reflection, marveling at how young I looked...and not in the fashion-glam way. More like in the...how-the-fuck-can-I-get-a-weapon-if-I’m-twelve way. I cast a quick glance at Sam to make sure he was busy before pulling on my shirt collar to see if the scar marks from Castiel were on my chest.

Nothing.

Not even boobs.

_Awesome._

I somehow managed to find shoes and a jacket without looking too stupid. I figured he wasn’t wearing size seven pink tennis shoes. By the time I got them on, he was moving towards the door, keys in one hand, and a smile on his face.

How the fuck could that other me have hurt him?

Then I thought, _whoa_ , what if that Sam was a dick?

Yeah...no. Can’t go there.

“Ready, kiddo? Here’s your book.”

_A Wrinkle In Time._ I loved this book when I was in school. A young girl on an adventure to help save her father. Sounds perfect. I took the book and smiled at him. “Yup - all ready!” And that’s when I noticed how high pitched my voice sounded. Christ, I sound like...um...like a pre-teen.

_Sigh._

“You okay?” He asked, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and giving the back of my head a little squeeze.

I took hold of his hand and squeezed it back. “Yeah...I’m fine. Let’s go - don’t want you to be late.”

Nodding, Sam ruffled my hair again and held the door open, following me into the hallway of...a not-so-nice building. I mean, it was okay. But it was clear that rent could not have been that much given its condition. Sam coughed into his sleeve, walked across the hall to the stairs and started down, glancing over his shoulder to make sure I was behind him.

Always the big brother.

We made our way down one flight and then out the front door. The building exited onto a street lined with fraternity houses and college-esque apartment buildings. This area looked vaguely familiar, and I remembered driving through it when my Sam was at Stanford.

Oh. So we’re at Stanford.

Hooray for catching up.

We walked in silence for a while. I was completely lost in thought, running through memories of Stanford with my Sam, remembering the night we got so trashed we barely made it back to his dorm. I was comparing how my Sam was like this Sam, even though I’ve known him all of ten minutes. I was trying to forget the last reality, but the sound of that gunshot and the look on Dean’s face were burned into my brain. 

I shivered at the memory, focusing on my shoes and keeping pace with Sam’s long strides.

I felt a nudge on my shoulder, sending me off a couple steps. I looked over and found Sam watching me again, eyebrows raised. “That must’ve been some dream, huh?”

I shrugged and kicked an innocent pebble that just happened to be in my way. “It was a dream, Sam. I’ll get over it.” 

He snaked an arm across my shoulders and pulled me to him, making walking a little difficult, but _goddammit_ , I felt a million times better, like I always did, when he held me. “Wanna talk about it?”

I laughed out loud. There were too many unknowns right now - I had no idea if explaining things to Sam would help or hurt. “No...it was...dumb. I’m okay. Really.” I bent my head back enough to look up into his eyes. Christ, he’s so damn tall. “I promise. Okay?”

His eyes flitted all over my face, trying to determine if I was lying. He kissed the top of my head. “If you say so.” Then he shoved me a little.

Fucker.

I giggled ( _Christ, I don’t giggle…_ ), and we continued on.

When we reached the lecture hall, I realized something else.

“Sam - I gotta go to the bathroom. I’ll be quick!” When you travel through what I’m calling space and time, going to the bathroom is one of those things that gets forgotten.

He checked his watch and pointed at the restroom across the hall. “Go on - I’ll wait here.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ll meet you inside. Don’t be late because I have to pee.”

He pulled his backpack off and began rooting around inside. “Not leaving you. I won’t be late if you quit yapping and start peeing.”

_Stubborn_ fucker.

Sighing, I went inside and took care of business. I just finished drying my hands, when I heard a deep voice in the hall.

“Picking up chicks outside the crapper, Winchester? That’s rich. Even for you.”

Sam laughed. “I’m waiting for Kate, Brady.”

I wracked my brain for a Brady. Did I meet him during my visits to Stanford? I honestly couldn’t remember.

“Why is she here? Can’t you dump her at daycare or something?”

_Oooh_...if I had met him, I hope I punched him.

Sam sighed. “Brady...knock it off. You know she’s my responsibility.”

Okay, late be damned - I’m waiting to hear the rest of this. I stood very still beside the air dryer, listening to every single word.

“I don’t get you, Sam. You’ve got a free ride in pre-law with one of the most competitive scholarships out there. You cannot blow this because you’re playing daddy.”

“Brady…” Sam started in a warning tone.

“No, not this time. You’re working, taking a full load of classes, raising her...when do you sleep? You look like you’re gonna fall over.”

“That’s enough, man. She needed a stable home, and while this isn’t the greatest situation, I’m doing the best I can. Drop it, because we’re not talking about it again.”

There was a sigh and shuffling footsteps moved away.

My heart was in my throat. Sam’s raising me? Is Dad even in the picture? Where was Dean? I berated myself for not paying more attention to his appearance. Granted, I was just killed by Dean in another universe...I was a tiny bit distracted. 

Still. 

Without Dean to take care of Sam, it fell solely to me to make sure he was okay.

No matter what reality I was in.

I waited a few beats to make sure Brady wasn’t still around, then I crept into the hallway. I could barely meet Sam’s eye. I felt guilty for weighing him down, and I hoped I would stick around long enough to help him somehow.

Even though it wasn’t really me.

Ugh.

He was engrossed in a textbook when I came out, so I gently prodded him with my foot. He jumped, telling me that either his hunting skills were getting rusty, or he wasn’t at a hundred percent. When he looked up, he smiled and closed his book. With a pen sticking out of his mouth, he asked, “All set?” 

I smiled briefly and nodded.

He stood, shouldered his backpack and led me into the auditorium.

I remembered this room - I think it holds something like four hundred students, which is ridiculously large. Sam chose a spot near the back, making sure I had my book out and open before setting himself up for class. The auditorium was only filled about halfway, telling me that this was probably a class he could have missed if he really wanted to. 

The professor was setting up on the stage, arranging papers and pens on a large podium, decked out with a laptop and document camera. I shifted in my chair a little, so I could easily watch Sam while pretending to read. 

He definitely looked tired. _No,_ exhausted. He was, what, nineteen? Twenty? But the worry lines were already evident, making him appear older. I propped my head on my hand and turned the page, watching Sam’s hair fall into his eyes. He shook his head in a lame attempt to push it aside, since his hands were busy rifling through a folder.

I reached out and brushed it off his face. I tried to tuck it behind his ears, but it just wasn’t quite long enough. He faced me, smiling while spitting out his pen. “You okay?”

Cupping his cheek, I nodded and smiled back. “Do we...have anything going on tonight?”

Sam cinched his mouth to the side and thought. “Nope. Why?”

I shrugged and went back to my book. “Just askin’.”

Sam narrowed his eyes at me. “Kate…”

I put my finger to my lips. “ _Shhh_ \- class started.”

He snorted just as the professor turned on the projector and began the lecture. Sam focused on him, but not before tapping the book and nudging me with his shoulder.

Sam’s attention was on every word coming out of this guy’s boring mouth. I slumped in my chair, and figured, well, if I’m stuck here, I might as well read a good book.

I’d gotten two pages in, when Sam slumped in _his_ seat, propping his legs on the vacant chair in front of us.

I snickered to myself - I knew what was coming.

Sure enough, by the time I got through another couple pages, his head drooped, followed by a beautiful full body twitch, which included dropping his pen and banging his head on the back of his chair. I bit my lip to keep from laughing, as he ruefully rubbed his head.

Wordlessly, I picked up his pen and handed it over, a small smile on my lips. He took it, gave me a sheepish grin, and rubbed his eyes, probably telling himself that he can totally make it through this class.

Ten minutes later, he totally didn’t.

The rest of class passed peacefully...Sam’s head on my small shoulder, arms folded across his chest, while I dutifully took notes for him. I thought about this Sam, and what was going on. 

Dad and Dean weren’t around, that much I knew. But I had no idea if there were visits and phone calls, or if the two of us were totally on our own. I also wasn’t sure of the circumstances leading to a college freshman raising a middle schooler. I just couldn’t imagine Dean allowing that to happen.

But then I remembered the last reality’s Dean.

So I guess anything really _is_ possible.

Not that I had other options, but I decided to play the part of twelve-year-old Kate Winchester, and do my best to help an obviously overwhelmed Sam Winchester. And maybe I was feeling so fucking lost, that I’d take forty-five minutes of semi-snuggling during a political science lecture to help get a grip on my big girl pants.

When the professor started packing it up, I twisted enough to kiss the top of Sam’s head. “Hey sleepy, time to get up.”

He woke with a yawn, slow and lazy, stretching as he sat up. I don’t think he remembered where he was.

Once again, my superior knowledge of all things Sam Winchester proved true, as I watched realization slowly dawn on him.

He looked around a little wildly. “Oh _shit_ , Kate! Why’d you let me sleep?! I needed these notes for a test this week. I - “

I waved him off. “All covered, big brother. I took notes for you.”

“ -- you what?”

I spoke slowly and carefully. “I. Took. Notes. I. Can. Write. You. Know.” Whoo - even trapped in another universe, I still got it.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Kate, you can’t -- “

I sighed. “Annotation style, two-columns, there’s even space for you to insert your interpretive thinking. I said I had it covered, Sam. Jesus.”

He stared at me.

I sighed. “I looked through your notebook and saw how you took notes on the other days and just copied the format.” I didn’t sit through this class the first time around for nothing.

“Oh…” He took the notebook and skimmed over what I wrote. “Wow...these are...wow! This is - this is great, Kate.” He closed the notebook and gave me that patented mushy _Wow, You Didn’t Have To Do That_ look. “But…”

“But nothing, Sam. You said we have nothing going on tonight, right?”

He shook his head no, running his hand through his hair.

“Perfect. Let’s go home, then. You need another nap. C’mon.”

“Kate…”

“Shut up, Sam. I’m taking care of you right now, so just move it.”

I stood up and moved my hands in a _Hurry The Fuck Up_ gesture. He laughed a little and shoved everything into his bag. Before he stood up, he looked up and gave me this sad smile.

“What is it?” I asked, brushing the hair off his face once again.

He shook his head a little as he stood, shouldering his backpack. “Nothing.”

“No, what?”

“You just...you sounded like Dean. That’s all.” Then he sighed, and walked towards the exit.

_Oh, fuck_. I wanted to ask. I wanted to ask _sooooo_ badly, but if I did, he’d know something was wrong.

So I kept my mouth shut, and quietly followed him outside.

**xxxxx**

When we got home, I ordered him to relax on the couch. He watched me with amusement, which was irritating, because I knew he found me taking care of him hilarious. 

There was nothing hilarious in this.

We spent the night eating whatever I cooked (heated up, whatever) and watching TV together on the couch. It was perfect.

Or...as perfect as this fucked up situation could be.

After the second movie, I was starting to nod off. I had my head in Sam’s lap, and just felt… _comfortable_. I may have the essence of a twenty-three year old, but I was in a twelve-year-old’s body. 

He stroked my hair and murmured, “Hey...time for bed, Katydid.”

I slowly let out a breath, blinking away tears. Outside of Dean calling him Sammy, we had no nicknames, and it was never a big deal. But the affection I felt through that one name...it blew me away. I always knew that Dean used Sammy as a way to express his love. I just never felt it before.

And then the anxiety set in. 

What if I wake up somewhere else? What will happen to this Sam? 

As much as I wanted to go home, I wasn’t ready to leave.

I racked my brain for a convincing reason to stay awake, for _any_ way to stay with him. The hair stroking continued, followed by his thumb rubbing back and forth on my arm. He knew what I was doing. Just not the why of it.

“C’mon...it’ll be okay. I’ll check on you, I promise.” He gently nudged me into a sitting position. I still hadn’t said anything. He probably thought I was sulking, when in truth, I was afraid I’d cry if I said a single word.

So I chose nodding, feigning being half-asleep, while he led me to my bedroom. He actually tucked me in, and sat next to me while I let my eyelids droop. After smoothing my hair, he smiled at me. “Thanks for tonight. I, um, I needed it, and...you were there for me.” He paused to search my face with his eyes. “You’re growing up really fast, you know that?”

I huffed sleepily. “So’re you.”

He laughed at that, kissed the top of my head, and pressed his forehead to mine.

_Oh my God_ …

“Love you. Get some sleep.” He rose and turned off the light.

“Sam?” I called, sitting up.

“Yeah?”

I almost told him. I almost told him everything right then and there. “Love you, too.”

But I didn’t.

He patted the doorframe, gave me one last smile, and closed the door.

The breath I let out this time was a little more forceful, and I plopped back against the pillow.

Now what?

What if I shift in my sleep? How will I know if I’m in the same reality? Everything could appear the same, except for one small detail. Then I’d be double fucked.

I growled in frustration, threw the covers off, and turned on a small bedside lamp. I needed some way to distinguish where I was, so I could tell if I was here, or somewhere else that looked a lot like here.

Silently, I crept out of bed and began searching the room for something, anything, I could use. After a couple minutes of hunting (ha), I spied a pad of sticky-notes on the dresser.

A plan came together, making me smile with its sheer brilliance. I could write myself a note and leave it by the bed. If it’s there in the morning, I’m still here. I was so proud of the idea that I almost called Sam to tell him how amazing I was. 

No, wait - a note was actually a bad idea - what would I say? 

_You’re still in this alternate reality. Maybe today you can figure out how to return to your own body and kill Uriel._

And then have Sam find it? Yeah, not good.

I settled for a smiley face.

Using an almost dried out marker, I made a crude face, and left it at the base of the lamp. I settled back in bed, and turned off the light, staring at the note in the darkness.

It’ll be there.

Right?

My eyes flickered to the doorway, where I last saw Sam, then back to the note.

I sighed, and went to sleep.

**xxxxx**

I woke slowly, stretching in bed and yawning. It took about another minute or so for reality to come crashing down, and I dreaded opening my eyes.

This may sound weird, but I felt myself up, and while disappointed that I wasn’t in my real body, I was glad I was still in the pre-teen body.

But which pre-teen body was I in?

I turned my head, opened one eye, and peeked at the lamp.

A ridiculous sticky note smiled back at me.

_Yes!_

I jumped out of bed and went in search of Sam. I found him in the kitchen, already dressed and eating cereal. He looked up and smiled as I skipped (Yes, okay? I skipped.) over to him, planting a big ol’ kiss on his cheek.

“Good morning!” I sang.

Startled, Sam laughed and gave me a hug. “Good morning to you, too. No nightmares?”

I shook my head and held up the sticky note. “Nope! All good.”

Puzzled, Sam nodded at the paper. “Um...what does that mean?”

I wadded up the note and tossed it into the garbage. “Right now, Sam, it means nothing.” I grabbed another bowl and started to pour cereal into it. “So...what’s up for today?”

Sam swallowed and picked up a mug of coffee. “Well, I have work soon, and then a study group this afternoon. _You_ are reading an enormous chunk of that book, today, before school starts up tomorrow.”

I flapped a hand at him as I perused the back of the cereal box. “I got it covered. No worries.” There were recipes on the box, and I wondered if something would be doable for dinner. 

He sipped his coffee and kicked me under the table. “Hey - I’m serious. You need to get that book finished.”

“Chill out, Charles Wallace, I got it.” I smirked at him and went back to the cereal box.

I caught him rolling his eyes. “I’ll quiz you when I get home.”

I gave him a _Yeah, yeah_ look. I had another chunk of time in which to help him out. I wasn’t worried about reading a book I already read. I was worried about him. The cereal box had this list of classic diner dishes, and I was mentally ticking off which items Dean’s shoved into his mouth. I came to one that I remembered us eating as kids.

“Hey Sam - how about we do something cool for dinner and have monte cristos? I can make them, I bet, and - “

I was interrupted by Sam almost dropping his coffee as he sneezed forcefully against his shoulder. “Whoa! Bless you!”

He ripped off another, and then…

_Oh, shit_ …

His eyes...they flickered....yellow.

_What the hell?_ My breath caught in my throat and I blinked furiously, thinking I imagined the whole thing. 

“Wow...I - wow…” He was breathless and watery-eyed, one hand under his nose as he blinked back at me, confusion on his face.

I quietly handed over a napkin, trying to stare and not stare at the same time. I ran over what just fucking happened, and I realized…

I said Christo.

_Technically_ , I said “cristo”, but demons don’t go by context clues. I swallowed hard, and in a tiny voice, I said, “Didn’t...didn’t know you were allergic to monte cristo sandwiches…”

He sneezed again, more powerfully than the first two, into the napkin, covering most of his face. But not his eyes.

Not the yellow eyes that appeared for a split second before returning to my brother’s bleary hazel ones.

“I’m not! I don’t know where those came from!” He sniffed, waiting to see if he’d sneeze again. When he figured he was safe, he set the napkin in his bowl and laughed. “That was so weird!” He stood and put his bowl in the sink. “I’m gonna finish getting ready.” And with that, he left the kitchen and headed towards his bedroom.

I didn’t move. Through that whole thing, I didn’t fucking move. I was sure my heart would burst out of my chest and land in my cereal bowl. My breaths came in short gasps, and I had to clasp my hands in my lap to hide the shaking.

What the _fucking hell_ was that? I couldn’t decide between crying in a corner and running out the door. 

I was having breakfast with _Azazel._

_How did that happen?_

Okay. First things first. Demons sense things, so if I didn’t calm the fuck down, right the fuck now, I was gonna die. So I took several shuddering breaths, used Dad’s breathing exercises, and calmed down.

About one sliver of one percent.

But it was calmer than before.

Sam came back in, backpack over his shoulder and keys dangling from his finger. I jumped at the metallic jingle, slamming my hands against the underside of the table, and almost knocking my cereal bowl onto the floor.

Sam laughed at me, a normal Sam laugh at something stupid his sister did. “Wow! You sneaking my coffee when I’m not looking?”

I laughed back, this nervous, high-pitched giggle thing that sounded horrific. “Yeah! Totally, right?”

Was that even English?

Sam pointed at me. “Read, today. I mean it. Okay?”

I nodded furiously. “Absolutely! Consider it read!”

He smiled, that fucking Sam smile that I fucking love and is now ruined. “Good girl. See you tonight!”

And then...he left.

And then...I sagged in my chair, clutched my chest, and thanked the stars that he didn’t kill me.

After the thanking was done, I allowed myself a minute to get a grip on this change in circumstances. 

It hit me hard: _I snuggled with Azazel._

I needed a plan. I needed a weapon.

I needed Dad.

Cereal and sandwiches now forgotten, I ran to the door and peered through the peephole. The hallway was empty, so I locked and chained the door and spent the next thirty minutes combing the entire apartment for any information on Dad and Dean...phone numbers, letters, cards, newspaper clippings, anything.

_Nothing._

Upon closer inspection, however, I did find intact salt lines on all the windows.

Except one - Sam’s. There was a tiny break in the line, one that could easily be overlooked by someone who wasn’t looking carefully. 

But I was looking carefully.

It didn’t tell me much, except that demons can get in and out of the apartment. I still had no details.

After a serious debate on whether to fix the line, I decided to leave it alone for now. I didn’t know the circumstances behind the break, so not messing with it seemed the best plan. I then stood in the middle of the living room, hands threaded in my hair, eyes wildly darting around the room. 

Now what?

Normal demons were problems. 

_This_ demon?

Problems times infinity.

I was so screwed.

Holy water was what I needed next, seeing as how Sam didn’t have any hunting weapons in the apartment. That I could find. I went into the kitchen, filled a pitcher with tap water, and began chanting a Hail Mary over it, thinking this was better than nothing, when the doorbell rang.

I ground my teeth together and checked the peephole again. There was a boy in the hallway, leaning on the wall next to the door. He looked about my age. Awesome. Because what I need, right now, is a fucking playdate.

I opened the door just a little, trusting in the security chain to keep the opening to a minimum.

“Yeah?” I asked, in a not-very-friendly tone.

The boy jumped when I called out, but quickly recovered. “Hey…”

I winced when he said that, because that’s what Dean always says. Struggling against the ache in my chest, I ground out, “What do you want?”

The boy took a step back, eyes narrowed. “Wow. You’re a bitch, today.”

I sighed. More awesome. He knew me, and I had no idea who the hell he was. “I’m sorry - I’m...kind of in the middle of something.”

He nodded and took a step closer. “Yeah? Anything I can help with?”

Right. We’ll watch iCarly and make holy water together.

Closing the door, I mumbled, “No. Gotta go.“

Right after the door clicked shut, I heard, “How about a weapon to free your brother?”

Well, that sounded better than iCarly. 

I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead to the door. How could I know who to trust?

What choice did I have? _Azazel was in Sam!_

Taking a deep breath, I slowly opened the door. The boy now had his arms folded across his chest, and he looked a little smug.

“Christo…” I murmured.

Nothing.

“I’m not a demon, Kate.”

_Thank God._ I began to unlock the door.

“I’m an angel.”

And I locked it again.

“And you’re not this universe’s Kate Winchester.”

_Goddammit._

I unlocked the door a second time and flung it open. “What the hell’s going on?” I demanded, in a terse whisper. After a quick scan of the hallway, I grabbed him by the arm and flung him inside, locking the door behind him.

He glanced at me, amused. “Locks don’t - “

“Shut the fuck up. It makes me feel better, and right now, I need anything to feel better.” Shaking, I began pacing the apartment, massaging my temples as a headache bloomed.

He just stood there, letting me have my moment, until I appeared ready for conversation.

“Who are you?” I asked, ceasing the pacing in favor of perching on the couch’s arm.

“I’m Michael.”

I blinked at him. There were little dots of light swirling around his head. No, all of him. “Michael? As in...archangel Michael?” I caught myself sliding off the arm and onto the cushions.

His brow furrowed and he took a step towards me. “Are you...alright?”

Confused, I stared at him, watching the little lights dance in my vision.

The room spun a little, just as I heard a key in the lock. I sluggishly turned towards the door, fighting the dizziness, as the door opened, only to stop when the chain pulled taut. Sam called out, “Katy? Sweetheart? Come open the door for me, baby. Okay?” It was Sam’s voice. But it wasn’t Sam’s voice.

Michael grabbed my arm. 

The door burst open, and Sam stood in the doorway, yellow eyes blazing.

Then everything went black.

**xxxxx**

Next thing I knew, I was lying on something soft, under a warm blanket. After a few seconds of _OhmygodOhmygodOhmygod_ , and several deep gulps of air, I ventured to open my eyes.

I was lying in bed, in a nice sized bedroom. I could hear a shower running nearby, and there was no sign of danger at all.

Yeah, that’s what I thought last time, too.

I tried to roll onto my stomach for a stretch, because my back was fucking killing me, but a beachball was in my way. Grimacing, I reached down to move it, but ended up flailing about and throwing the covers off me.

There was no beachball.

There was my belly - completely, and utterly pregnant.

_Whoa…_

I gingerly put my hands on my swollen midsection. My mouth opened into this little _O_ shape, and I just...I had nothing. Absolutely nothing.

And that’s when I spotted the wedding ring.

Huh… _ooooo-kay._

I awkwardly shuffled to the edge of the bed, thinking: I should get up to investigate. 

That quickly turned into: I should get up and investigate the location of that bathroom, because this lady needs to pee, _pronto_.

I managed to sit up, with what I admit it wasn’t a pretty execution of movements. I sat there, panting (because sitting up was apparently exhausting), when I spotted my wedding picture on top of a dresser.

...

Let me say this.

Being pregnant was quite the turn of events.

Finding out I was married to _Dad_ , was a whole other thing.

**XXXXX TBC XXXXX**


	5. Chapter 5

**_Previously, in Quantum AU..._ **

Next thing I knew, I was lying on something soft, under a warm blanket. After a few seconds of _OhmygodOhmygodOhmygod_ , and several deep gulps of air, I ventured to open my eyes.

I was lying in bed, in a nice sized bedroom. I could hear a shower running nearby, and there was no sign of danger at all.

Yeah, that’s what I thought last time, too.

I tried to roll onto my stomach for a stretch, because my back was fucking killing me, but a beachball was in my way. Grimacing, I reached down to move it, but ended up flailing about and throwing the covers off me.

There was no beachball.

There was my belly - completely, and utterly pregnant.

_Whoa…_

I gingerly put my hands on my swollen midsection. My mouth opened into this little _O_ shape, and I just...I had nothing. Absolutely nothing.

And that’s when I spotted the wedding ring.

Huh… _ooooo-kay._

I awkwardly shuffled to the edge of the bed, thinking: I should get up to investigate. 

That quickly turned into: I should get up and investigate the location of that bathroom, because this lady needs to pee, _pronto_.

I managed to sit up, with what I admit it wasn’t a pretty execution of movements. I sat there, panting (because sitting up was apparently exhausting), when I spotted my wedding picture on top of a dresser.

...

Let me say this.

Being pregnant was quite the turn of events.

Finding out I was married to _Dad_ , was a whole other thing.

**XXXXX TBC XXXXX**

**_Now..._ **

So...was this worse than Dean wanting me dead and Sam being possessed by the family enemy?

It ranked up there.

My jaw dropped, and I stared at the picture, my need to use the bathroom forgotten. With a shaky hand, I reached and picked up the photo, framed in one of those decorative things with the word Love scripted on it and, oh, _Ha_ , a devil’s trap combined with a Cupid’s bow. 

Nice. Very nice.

The picture itself was in black and white. It was me and Dad ( _Oh, gads_ …) standing under a tree, arms wrapped around each other. I was in a pretty white dress - not the traditional wedding gown, but ankle length. Dad was in a nice suit, and he looked incredibly happy.

We both did. Like a couple in love.

Upon closer inspection, I looked a little older...maybe around thirty? And there was a vicious scar down the length of my left arm. I checked, and sure enough, there it was, jagged and angry, from my shoulder down past my elbow.

I bet that’s a good story.

I was so entrenched in the photo, that I didn’t hear the shower stop running. That explains why I jumped when I heard a low chuckle behind me. “Still can’t believe it’s been a year, huh?”

Dad…

Or...John…

Or...I need a drink.

Truth be told, I was a little afraid to turn around. Obviously it was Dad, but...he isn’t Dad here. But he _has_ to be _my_ dad, otherwise, how’d I _get_ here? I mean, his DNA made me, right? So…

The bed dipped and I felt a hand on my back. “Hey...you okay?”

I turned and faced him, concerned brown eyes mere inches from my own. His hair was wet, and a little longer than I was used to. The worry lines were there, and I assumed that meant hunting. What else could have caused that massive scar on my arm? He was only wearing a towel around his waist, leaving the rest of him...well...not covered.

I had to play this part until I knew what I was facing. That last shift taught me a lesson - nothing is what it seems without proof.

I cleared my throat and forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just...you know.” I pointed to my belly. “Pregnant!”

He laughed, taking the picture and placing it back on the dresser. “I’m aware.” He cupped my cheek in one hand, and set the other on my stomach.

Well, yes, I say stomach, even though technically it isn’t my _stomach_ , because five minutes ago, _that was my normal stomach area_. Now it was freaking huge. “Oh shit!” I yelled, as I felt something shift inside me, making Dad’s hand wobble and me frantically grab his arm.

His eyes widened, and more laughter rang out. “Whoa! That was a good one, huh? I’m telling you, Kat, he’s gonna be a soccer player!” He kissed my cheek and got up, walking towards a closet. “You ready for today?”

Today. Am I ready for today. Of course I’m not. “You bet! It...should be...good…I’m gonna use the bathroom.” I struggled to my feet and began to _ohmygod_ wobble towards the door, figuring I could find this bathroom.

Dad paused his hanger pushing. “Good? Our first baby shower should be more than good.”

I paused. Baby shower day. _Riiiiiight_...of course. “I know...I’m just...a little preoccupied - that’s all.” I pointed to my belly and hurried to the bathroom.

Once inside, I closed the door and leaned against it, my hands on my face. There has got to be a good explanation for this. Right? He must _not_ know I’m his daughter. Right?

I mean, _right??_

I scrubbed my hands over my face, then went to the bathroom. I washed my hands and face, pausing to stare at myself in the mirror as water dripped down my cheeks and off my chin.

I definitely looked older, with wrinkles around the edges of my eyes and a hardened edge to my facial features. It was hard to explain, but I just _knew_ that this me had seen some fucked up shit.

Sighing, I dried my face with a towel and leaned against the sink. I needed to test things - find out if I’m really in a safe environment. I heard a rustling noise, and stood up just as Castiel blinked into sight.

“Cas!” I breathed, throwing my arms around his neck and squeezing tight.

He awkwardly patted me on the back. “Um, yes, hello Kate. I’m sorry that I…” He pushed me away a little and stared at my pregnant middle. “You’re...quite large…”

I rolled my eyes and swatted him on the arm. “This Kate is pregnant, Cas, and while I’m no expert, this baby’s due soon! And worse than that - I’m married to Dad!”

Perplexed, Cas blinked at me.

“Let that sink in, will you? Dad is my husband! This is his baby!” I pointed to my belly. “I don’t think he knows that I’m his daughter!” I glanced over his shoulder at the door, expecting it to burst open any second, even though I was whispering. “And by the way!” I slapped him. “That’s for ordering Dean to kill me!” I huffily flopped back against the sink, panting from the effort of the whisper-yelling.

Cas rubbed his cheek and looked thoroughly confused. “I...what? Ordered Dean to kill you? In a different universe?”

I glared at him. _Where else?_

His eyes widened and he nodded. Once it sunk in, he gave me a Cas version of Sam’s Eyes. “I see. I’m...sorry?”

I waved him off. “Nevermind. I shouldn’t have hit you for that, I know. It’s been...it’s been awful.” I looked up at him and whined a little. “How much longer do I have to do this?”

He sighed, shoulders slumping a bit. “I wish I knew, Kate. But I don’t. I’m being watched, and it’s difficult to get to you.”

I sighed, shaking my head. “How are you finding me? If I’m shifting to an unlimited number of universes and times, how do you know where I am?”

Cas tilted his head to the side, considering me. “I told you once, that I’d always find you.” He reached out and placed his fingers on my chest, in the same spots as my scar, eliciting a cool tingle. “We are…connected, now. I will know where you are. I just...can’t get to you in every reality. I’m sorry.”

I clasped his hand tight, forcing him to look me in the eyes. In a soft voice, I said, “I know. And, I appreciate everything you’re doing to help. I just...I’m being faced with some real messed up situations, and I always feel like...like I’m not catching on fast enough. I can’t trust _anything_ around me without proof of what I’m dealing with.”

Cas gave me his serious look, which really is just him staring at me with his head tilted to the side. “What’s happened?”

Shaking my head again, I let go of his hand. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not there anymore, so it’s over. But now I’m _here_ , and I don’t have the full picture of what’s going on _here_ , and this situation is just....”

Cas frowned, and placed two fingers against my temple. I heard a nifty swooshing sound echo in my head. “This Kate’s memories are not accessible to me. But I do know that she and John are not aware of their connection. As far as they know, they are two people who met on a hunt, and fell in love.”

Well… _okay_.

He sighed, his eyes sad. “I think part of why I can’t access her mind, is because your consciousness is dominant and present right now. Instead of accessing hers...I...accessed yours. I know of what you’ve...experienced. I...I don’t know what to say, except - “

I held up a hand. “Don’t tell me you’re sorry. Just… _please_...find a way to get me home, okay?” I ran my fingers through my hair. “Is the real me still asleep?”

He nodded.

I scrunched up my shoulders and threw my hands up in frustration. “How is that possible? I was with Sam in that last reality overnight.”

Now _Cas_ held up a hand, silencing me. “I know it doesn’t seem logical. But this is the result of a spell, Kate. There’s a bit of dark magic at work, here, and I don’t know the exact science on how it works. What I _can_ tell you, is that you’re safe _here_. Nothing is hunting you, and everyone is exactly who they appear to be.”

I rubbed my eyes. “Well, that’s something at least.” I dropped my hands and asked, “So wait - can I tell them? Can I tell them what’s going on? Maybe they can help!”

Cas thought this over, but ended up shaking his head. “I advise against telling people. They aren’t prepared for this.”

“Like _I_ was prepared for this?”

“Kate, this spell is incredibly powerful. It took the efforts of several angels to cast, with Uriel at the head. It is highly doubtful that the humans in the varied realities you visit will be able to help.” I opened my mouth, but he waved me to silence. “Besides, you don’t know how long your stay in each realm will be. The effort it will take to convince people of your story may be as far as you get. Then you leave, and what is left for that Kate to deal with?” He picked up my hand and squeezed it. “Your father is happy, here, Kate. You make him happy. They haven’t done anything wrong by being together. Are you willing to risk that? Because finding out the truth will do just that.”

I squinted at him. “So an Angel Of The Lord is telling me to let a father impregnate his daughter and live together happily ever after?”

He cringed at that. “I prefer telling you that John Winchester deserves to be at peace.”

_Goddammit._

“Okay, but you or any other angel can tell I’m not who I’m supposed to be. I don’t know why Azazel didn’t react to me...maybe he wasn’t in control of Sam at the time? I dunno…” I wasn’t quite ready to accept that Azazel was in Sam the whole time. “But any angel can ‘out’ me, and then I’m guessing I’ll be in a worse situation.”

Cas let go of my hand, and once again, reached out and touched the spot where my scar should be. As before, I felt a cool rush flow from his fingers, only this time, it filled every inch of my _pregnant_ body. He pulled away and cinched his mouth to the side. “That should fix that.”

I waited, but he offered no explanation. I blew out a breath, then demanded, “What should fix what, Cas?”

He blinked and shook himself. “I encoded your consciousness with something similar to a verification code, so the angels you encounter understand the situation. If they still _out_ you, there is a reason.”

I snorted. There are lots of reasons out there. I was just confident I wouldn’t like most of them. I wasn’t even going to ask for a clarification of what “encoded my consciousness” means. (How do you even _do_ that?) I didn’t want to know. As long as it was done, that was good enough.

I am _too_ trusting.

There was a knock on the door. “Kat? You okay in there?”

Cas arched an eyebrow. I grabbed his coat to keep him from blinking away. “Yeah! Almost done!” I leaned close and whispered in his ear, “One last thing...this baby...is it...healthy?” The last thing I wanted was for an unforeseen… _complication_...because of this relationship. If I was going along with it, I needed to know.

Cas gave me a smile. “ _She_...is perfectly fine, and very excited to meet you.” Then he blinked out of sight. I stuck my tongue out at the empty bathroom, then opened the door. A worried Dad stood in the hallway, now dressed in some nice jeans, a button down shirt, and a blazer. His face was clean shaven, his bangs hung almost to his eyes, and the ends curled out from his neck.

Wow, Dad’s quite the looker.

While I didn’t like this situation, at least it wasn’t dangerous, and there wasn’t any trickery, here. It was just...uncomfortable. Really, fucking uncomfortable.

But I looked into Dad’s… _John’s_...eyes, taking in the worry, the love, the confusion. Cas was right. I _couldn’t_ take this away from him. No one was being hurt. The baby was normal and healthy. John was, for the first time in my life, happy.

I squared my shoulders a little. I could do this. Even with a baby inside me. Even with _Dad’s_ baby inside me.

_Especially_ with Dad’s baby inside me.

That statement almost made me throw up.

I flashed a simple smile, and gave him a big hug, getting as close as my huge self would allow. “How can I not be okay? I’m with you and our little girl.”

Every once in a while, I nail it by saying the right words to the right person. Enthuiastically, John pulled me into a tight hug (at least to my upper half), and murmured into my hair. “I love you.” He kissed me on the lips (I will get used to that I will get used to that I don’t want to be here long enough to get used to that). He gazed into my eyes, a serious expression on his face. “But what makes you think it’s a girl?”

I smirked at him. “You have to trust me on this one. I know I’m right.”

He rolled his eyes. “Go get dressed. Ellen and Jo will be here soon.”

“Really??” I asked in an almost squeal of excitement. Only to clamp my stupid mouth shut at his look of surprise. “I mean, of course they will be here soon.” I thumbed down the hallway. “Gonna get dressed!”

John shook his head and chuckled. “Jesus, you’re weird today.”

I flapped a hand at him over my shoulder as I made my way awkwardly down the hall. “You have no fucking idea, Winchester. Now, is there a dress code I can’t remember or what?”

**xxxxx**

By the time I got downstairs, Ellen and Jo were in the living room, with Dean staring intently at his phone from the couch.

“Wow, look at you!!” Jo gushed, running over to give me a big hug, which I returned probably a little more intensely than she expected, but I was just so glad to see her. And, you know, she wasn’t possessed or anything.

“I know! This is crazy!” I said, both hands on my belly.

Ellen laughed. “You look great, sweetheart. Bobby’s gonna flip out when he sees you. I swear you doubled since we last saw you!”

Dean snorted, shoving his phone in his pocket, and standing with a stretch. “Tripled, more like. How’re you feeling, _Mom?_ ” He snickered, then leaned down to kiss my cheek.

I would’ve killed a vampire barehanded to get more of a hug from him, but I settled for merely smiling and giving him shit. “Be nice, or I’ll ground your ass.”

He snorted again. “Jo’ll protect me.” He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed, kissing her neck messily and making her giggle wildly.

Ellen rolled her eyes. “Get a room, you two. When’s Sam supposed to get here?”

Dean stopped rocking Jo back and forth to check his watch. “Plane lands in an hour.”

I searched for a way to ask where he lived and what he was doing...what they were all doing...but I came up blank. For example, where was Adam? 

I guessed some storylines would just have holes in them, and I had to accept that. 

Didn’t have to like it, though.

I looked past Dean, and saw some pictures lining a shelf above the fireplace. Cliche, yes, but I didn’t care. Pictures told stories, so I waddled over and began studying them.

There was one of Dean and Jo, together on a beach. Jo and Ellen at the Roadhouse...sort of a candid shot. Sam outside a building I recognized from Palo Alto (He must be back in school!!). Bobby and Dad, in front of a house, grinning like little kids. Another one of me and Dad. Then one of Dad, Dean, and Sam...posing on the Impala, which was… _oh_. 

_She was totalled._

That hurt as badly as if one of them were dead.

I cleared my throat, needing something else to think about. I figured it was okay to ask, “Where’s Bobby again?”

Ellen rolled her eyes again. “Needed to finish something at the garage. I dunno what, but he was insistent. Said he’d meet us at the restaurant.”

I nodded absently, and reluctantly turned away from the photos. Ellen was watching me, and after flashing a preoccupied Dean a quick look, she walked over, arms folded across her chest.

She whispered, “You okay?”

I need to _not_ make people ask me that. But I don’t see how that’s remotely possible. “Yeah, I’m just…” Then it hit me - the perfect way to get through this. 

I gave her what I hoped was a sheepish smile. “I guess I’m just a little emotional.”

Christ, I’m brilliant.

Ellen smiled sympathetically, and reached out to smooth my hair. “I remember that feeling. Hormones all runnin’ wild, crying at nothin’...”

“Yes! I’m all over the place...forgetting things, daydreaming…” Okay, those weren’t emotional, but I was hoping that if I threw them in there, I’d have covered my ass for whatever stupid thing I could do.

She laughed. “You only have a couple weeks left, sweetie. Then it’ll only get worse.” She patted my shoulder and walked to the couch, picking up her purse and fishing out a set of keys. “Okay, Jo, let’s go make sure the restaurant is ready for us.”

“Okay, Mom,” Jo said through more giggles.

Dean let go of her after planting a deep kiss down her throat. “C’mon, Ellen. What’s to get ready? There’s only us.”

Ellen shouldered her bag, and huffed. “Don’t start with me, boy.”

Dean grinned and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You love me, and you know it.” Ellen laughed and shoved him. 

I smiled at the exchange, loving how similar they were to my Ellen and Dean.

John bounced down the steps, skipping the last two. Holy smokes, he’s bouncing, now. “Everyone ready?”

There was a chorus of affirmative little noises, and John patted down his pockets. “Where are my keys?”

Dean huffed, and walked to an end table in the corner of the living room. He bent and picked up a large, jangling set of keys. Twirling them on a finger, he silently handed them over, a smile on his lips.

John snatched them, giving Dean a very stern finger pointing. “Say. Nothing.”

Dean raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, sitting once more on the couch.

Ellen piped up. “Jo and I were just leaving. C’mon, honey.”

Jo rushed over to give me one last, quick hug. “See you in a few hours!” She excitedly whispered into my ear.

I smiled back at her, watching her and Ellen walk out the door. Dean slapped his thighs. “So. We need to stop at Bobby’s before we get Sam.”

John raised his eyebrows. “For what?”

Dean shrugged. “I dunno. He just said to make sure we stopped by on the way to the airport.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. He knew exactly why - he was just playing dumb.

John pointed at him. “You know exactly why. Stop playing dumb.”

Dean placed a hand over his heart with a look of innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Don’t shoot the messenger.” He pushed himself to his feet and waved us to follow. “Hurry up, or we’ll be late.”

He went outside, and John turned to me, confusion mixed with suspicion on his face. “Don’t look at me,” I said defensively. “Even if I knew what was going on at some point, I certainly don’t know now.” I looked around. “So...do I have a purse or something?”

John’s expression showed an increase of confusion. “On the kitchen table. Seriously - what’s _with_ you today?”

_Here we go_. I put one hand on my hip, the other on my belly. “Maybe you didn’t notice that I’m pregnant, hmm? Just humor me so we can get through today, alright?”

John huffed and shook his head. “You’re something else.” He went to the kitchen and retrieved what was apparently my purse. He handed it over. “You’re lucky I love you.”

I hefted the bag onto my shoulder. “Of course I am. Now let’s go.”

**xxxxx**

The drive to Bobby’s took about twenty minutes. John’s SUV bounced over the bumpy roads, making it difficult to tell if the baby was kicking or if we were just hitting rough patches. As we neared the house, I pressed against the glass, wondering how similar it would be to my home.

Turns out, it was exactly the same.

The yard was still overrun with junkers, but there was an order to them. The house stood neat and strong, blanketed, I was sure, in all sorts of charms and protections. John pulled in and parked on the side of the driveway, leaving enough room for another car to get past him.

We piled out (well _they_ piled out, _I_ slowly and gracelessly exited the car, and stood in the driveway, scanning the lot for signs of the old hunter.

“Where is he?” John asked, shading his eyes whenever he faced the sun.

Dean cinched his mouth to the side, pretending to be confused. “I dunno, Dad. He just said to be here.”

John rolled his eyes. “Right. Of course he did.” He sighed and continued looking around. He gave me a sidelong glance, which I returned with a shrug of my shoulders.

Like I had any clue what was going on.

I was swaying from side to side, almost rocking myself as I stood. One hand was on my back, the other on the baby, and I felt like I was on a boat. John moved to stand next to me, placing a steadying arm around my shoulders.

“Dean - go find him.”

Dean flapped a hand at him dismissively, and I felt John’s irritation level jump. Reaching up, I took his hand and squeezed it, trying to settle him down.

Beside me, he huffed, and kissed the top of my head. In my ear, he murmured, “Seriously, do you know what’s going on?”

I shook my head no, and he sighed in response.

Then we heard it.

A loud rumble, throaty and sexy, coming from behind the house. John’s arm dropped from my shoulders, as he stood up straight and took a couple steps toward the noise, as if a siren were beckoning him.

I knew that sound, as well as I knew my own voice. Dean’s face split into a grin, and he stared at his shoes in a lame attempt to hide it.

John swiveled towards his son. “ _Dean_ …”

At his name, Dean looked up, and the grin got wider. He shrugged. “Couldn’t leave her in a heap, Dad.”

The rumble increased, and then we saw her. The Impala, fully restored, pulled into view, amid a cloud of dust. John couldn’t help himself - instinctively drawn to her, he jogged closer, stopping just as Bobby pulled next to him.

The windows were down, and Bobby leaned across the seat. “Figured you needed your family car since you’re startin’ another one.”

John was speechless. His jaw lay open as he slowly walked around her, fingers lovingly caressing the paint job. 

I was stunned. The Impala in the picture was a twisted heap of metal. I have no idea how they did it, but if anyone could, it was Bobby and Dean. Tears were in my eyes, from both the sight of the car, and of John. Bobby climbed out, fiddling with his cap, embarrassed by the silence.

John finished his inspection of the exterior, and after an unspoken word was shared between them, Bobby popped the hood. The pregnant lady forgotten, animated conversation began over the engine and the gaskets and the something else that makes the car go.

Standing in the driveway was becoming increasingly uncomfortable, so I continued my rocking-swaying movement. My face must’ve given away how I felt, because next thing I knew, Dean was next to me, his hand on my elbow. In a low voice, he asked, “You okay?”

I nodded, and tucked some hair behind my ear. “Yeah, I think so. Maybe I should sit down.”

Dean looked around, then helped me to the porch, where I sank down on the steps with an, “Ooof…”

He smirked, but I could see the concern in his eyes. “I’m fine, Dean. Go play with the boys.”

Dean glanced over his shoulder, then shook his head. “Nah, Bobby waited a long time for this moment. Let him have the glory.” He sat next to me, rubbing a hand along my back in broad strokes. It felt fantastic.

Until…

“ _Whoa_ …,” I breathed as a sharp pain shot up my groin and into my belly. It felt like the wind was knocked out of me, and I grabbed my middle and bent forward a bit.

Dean was immediately on his feet, crouched in front of me, hands on mine. “Breathe, Kat...remember to breathe…”

Honestly, I’d love to breathe, but my chest felt a little constricted at the moment. It took a few seconds, but the pain finally backed off, allowing my clenched muscles to relax a bit and air to flow once more into my lungs.

“Holy fucking shit that hurt,” I groaned, gripping Dean’s hands until I noticed him wincing with pain. “Fuck - sorry!” I apologized, letting them go and wiping the sweat on my dress.

He chuckled. “It’s okay. That was somethin’, huh? Uh - was it a contraction?”

Like I know. “I don’t know...but it hurt like _Oh God, another one_ …” I sucked in a breath as another wave of pain hit me, sharp and crisp, bringing tears to my eyes. “Wow…” I choked out.

“Dad!” Dean called over his shoulder.

“Yeah?” There was an absent quality to the response, like John was answering, but not paying attention to Dean’s tone.

“Um...we probably need to cancel lunch.”

That got his attention. It didn’t take long for John to appear at my side, brushing my sweaty hair off my face and asking, in a fairly trembly voice, “Kat...what’s wrong, babe?”

I couldn’t answer, so I just shook my head and pressed the heel of one hand against my eye. I was breathing in short little pants, hoping that eventually, I’d be able to draw a decent breath. The whole idea that I could possibly be around for the delivery of this baby was really freaking me out, and most certainly wasn’t helping the whole _Breathe_ campaign.

Dean and John were talking, and I think I heard Bobby’s voice in there, but the words weren’t clear. It was hard enough keeping the tears at bay. Concentrating on voices was pushing my limits.

During a lull in the pain wave, I leaned against John. “Wasn’t...wasn’t ready for it… _whew_ …” I feebly laughed, trying to ease his worry.

“Can you stand up? Maybe get to the car?”

“Mmmm...yeah…” John and Dean both helped haul me to my feet, where I stood swaying a little, and not in the fun rocking motion from earlier. This was more like...I had no balance whatsoever, and if John didn’t have a death grip on me, I’d have fallen over. The look on Bobby’s face was priceless, though, and I had to laugh at him. Even if it was weak.

“Okay, babe...here we go…” We took a whole two steps before I felt it.

A nice warm, wet trickle down my legs.

Like I said, I’m no expert at being pregnant or childbirth in general, but I’m gonna bet that my water broke.

I stopped walking, and gripped John’s arm a little tighter. “Dean, sweetheart…”

Dean raised an eyebrow at me.

“I’m gonna need some towels. Your dad will kill me if I get the seats wet.”

“What? Why…? Oh. _Oh_...um… _fuck_.” He took off running for the house.

John’s eyes widened. “Oh...shit...okay…okay...we’ll, yeah, okay.” He helped me along a little faster, coaching me on how to breathe and counting seconds between what I’m now assuming are contractions. 

I could hear Bobby talking over it all. “Get her to the hospital, John. I’ll get Sam and call Ellen.”

In between _hee hee hee_ sounds, John grunted, “Thanks, Bobby...for everything. I’ll...I owe you so much beer it isn’t funny.”

Bobby scoffed, “Shaddup. Go be a Dad. We’ll meet you there.”

We got to the Impala just as Dean returned, carrying an armful of towels.

“How much do you expect her to leak, boy?” Bobby demanded.

“How the fuck do I know? I just grabbed ‘em, I didn’t count them!”

Towels were laid on the seats and the floor, two thick. I wanted to make a joke about absorbency or peeing in the car or anything. But instead, all I could think of was _I’m gonna have this baby._

_Another_ thought occurred to me. Was this Kate going to miss the birth of her child? How completely, and utterly shitty.

And now there’s one more thing to be upset about.

_Hooray…_

I got situated in the back seat, resting against John, while Dean slid into the front seat. He started the car, then twisted in his seat to look at us. “Dad...I’m sorry...I - do you wanna drive, or…?”

John stared incredulously at him, his hands still stroking my hair and squeezing my hand. “Just go.”

After a terse nod, Dean faced front, shifted her into gear, and peeled out of Bobby’s yard.

**xxxxx**

The hospital wasn’t that far away, but it felt like we drove for hours. That was possibly because John and I were counting breaths and seconds and pain waves, and lulls, and the cycle never seemed to end.

Soon after we arrived, I was in a wheelchair and on my way to a room, John still holding my hand and Dean following close behind. We got to the sixth floor, and began the whole process of checking in, filling out paperwork (legally!), and getting me changed into a lovely faded blue hospital gown.

At one point, Dean’s phone rang with a simultaneously excited and worried Sam on the other end, assuring us that Bobby picked him up, and they were now on their way to the hospital. 

Once the hoopla of our arrival died down, it was just the three of us in the hospital room. I was hooked up to some monitors, and preparing myself for some serious drugs.

John sat with me on the bed, and Dean sat in a chair, his leg bouncing nervously. “You know...this is a first. We’ve never been here for something good.”

“Huh?” John asked, handing me a cup full of ice chips, which, by the way, felt heavenly in my mouth.

Dean spread his arms and gestured around the room. “Hospitals. We’re never here for good reasons.”

We all shared a laugh, cut short on my end by a grunt of pain. John hovered dutifully, which was both charming and irritating. My temperament deteriorated as the contractions got closer. 

Was I _actually_ going to have this baby? How many times would I ask myself that question?

Probably until it sunk in.

_Good Gravy…_

The pain was exhausting, and I ended up drifting in and out of consciousness. Through fluttering eyelids, I watched Dean text Sam periodically with updates. After one such check, he leaped to his feet, shoving the phone in his pocket. “He’s here! I’ll go get him.” Before anyone could comment, he was out of the room.

As soon as he left, John leaned down, rubbing an ice chip along my lips, soothing the spot I kept biting. “How’s my girl?” He murmured, kissing me gently on the cheek.

“ _Heh_...been better.” He nodded seriously, concern etched into every pore on his face. “Hey…” I weakly smacked him on the chest. _Fuck_ , I was exhausted. “Why so glum? It’s baby time...s’posed to be good…”

He sniffed and wiped at his eyes. “I know. I’m just...this is a big deal, that’s all.” He sighed, slumping his shoulders. “I was so excited...and I still am! It’s just…” He eyed the ceiling and blew out a breath. “What if I fail again?”

“What’re you talking about?”

He looked straight at me. “What if I’m a crappy father all over again?”

_Oh._

I felt around the bed until I bumped against his hand. Picking it up, I pressed it to my lips, mindful of the heart monitor dangling from one finger. “Listen to me, okay? It’s really simple, John. If you don’t want to be a crappy father, then don’t be a crappy father.”

He huffed. “Like it’s that easy.”

I shrugged, feeling the monitor wires slide across my chest. “Actually, it is. If that bothers you, then go with this rule. Do what I say. I’m sure that one will work.”

He laughed out loud at that, and pulled my hand to his chest, holding it tight. “Thank God I have you.” 

“Mmm...that’s the truth. Now go get me some drugs. I am not doing this without ‘em.”

**xxxxx**

It took another twenty minutes for the anesthesiologist to arrive and hook me up. By then, the room was crowded with Sam, Dean and John, with the others probably pacing in the classic hospital waiting room.

Normally, I hate being the center of attention. This time? I was thankful they were all there, jumping to help if I so much as twitched. If I was doing this, I needed them.

The constant ache combined with the cycle of contraction pain sucked the energy out of me. I already felt drugged, even though the doctor had yet to insert the needle. It took another twenty for that to happen, and by the time he was done, the pain was bearable and I could breathe through the spikes.

Conversations, however, became almost impossible. I was falling asleep between sentences, vaguely aware of the boys laughing at me. I had witty retorts ready to go - I just couldn’t execute any. John’s expressions were a nice combination of anxious and excited, and Dean was pacing back and forth while Sam tried to settle him.

I had to do something.

Determined to provide reassurance that everything would be _totally_ okay, the next time I woke, I opened my eyes and found myself face to face with an old woman, whose cheeks were splattered with blood. Her mouth curved into a twisted smile, and I noticed a long, silver blade in her hand, upraised and ready to strike.

I recoiled as a second blade entered the picture - through her throat - protruding at an odd angle. She slid to the ground, revealing a seriously pissed off Dean Winchester standing behind her, panting and holding that second blade.

“What the _fuck_ , Cas? You almost got yourself killed!”

“I...I’m sorry, Dean. Something...something’s changed…”

That voice - that’s...that’s _my_ voice. I tried to look around, but discovered I was unable to move. But… _my body was moving_ , turning this way and that, arms outstretched as if for balance.

“Cas...what’s wrong?”

“Give me a minute, Dean...please…” My arm reached out for a wall that happened to be nearby, and my body leaned against it.

Gears turning, I asked hesitantly… _Castiel?_

_Yes, Kate. I...I believe I now understand what has happened._

_Is this what I think it is?_

I heard him sigh. _It is. You’re my vessel._

**XXXXX TBC XXXXX**


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH GOD I had this chapter under DRAFT instead of POST. EEK!!!!! I'm sorry!!!!!
> 
> Hrm. It gets a teeny bit explicit towards the end. Not enough to warrant more than a T rating, but I thought I’d give a heads up all the same.
> 
> I also had a lot of issues with the formatting - thought-speak is more difficult to express than I thought. Ha. Anyhoo, I used quotation marks to differentiate when Cas or Kate are speaking to each other. Please note italics for when it’s internal, or when Cas is speaking out loud. Sorry if that’s confusing, but it’s the best I could come up with.

**_Previously, in Quantum AU…_ **

It took another twenty minutes for the anesthesiologist to arrive and hook me up. By then, the room was crowded with Sam, Dean and John, with the others probably pacing in the classic hospital waiting room.

Normally, I hate being the center of attention. This time? I was thankful they were all there, jumping to help if I so much as twitched. If I was doing this, I needed them.

The constant ache combined with the cycle of contraction pain sucked the energy out of me. I already felt drugged, even though the doctor had yet to insert the needle. It took another twenty for that to happen, and by the time he was done, the pain was bearable and I could breathe through the spikes.

Conversations, however, became almost impossible. I was falling asleep between sentences, vaguely aware of the boys laughing at me. I had witty retorts ready to go - I just couldn’t execute any. John’s expressions were a nice combination of anxious and excited, and Dean was pacing back and forth while Sam tried to settle him.

I had to do something.

Determined to provide reassurance that everything would be _totally_ okay, the next time I woke, I opened my eyes and found myself face to face with an old woman, whose cheeks were splattered with blood. Her mouth curved into a twisted smile, and I noticed a long, silver blade in her hand, upraised and ready to strike.

I recoiled as a second blade entered the picture - through her throat - protruding at an odd angle. She slid to the ground, revealing a seriously pissed off Dean Winchester standing behind her, panting and holding that second blade.

“What the _fuck_ , Cas? You almost got yourself killed!”

“I...I’m sorry, Dean. Something...something’s changed…”

That voice - that’s...that’s my voice. I tried to look around, but discovered I was unable to move. But… _my body was moving_ , turning this way and that, arms outstretched as if for balance.

“Cas...what’s wrong?”

“Give me a minute, Dean...please…” My arm reached out for a wall that happened to be nearby, and my body leaned against it.

Gears turning, I asked hesitantly…” _Castiel?_ ”

“ _Yes, Kate. I...I believe I now understand what has happened._ ”

“ _Is this what I think it is?_ ”

I heard him sigh. “ _It is. You’re my vessel._ ”

**XXXXX**

**_Now…_ **

“ _I’m your…_ ”

Was this spell designed to plop me in the most fucked up realities possible?

It probably was.

How the hell am I a _vessel?_ What about the baby? I can’t...I can’t even look around on my own! This is…

“ _Kate… **please**...calm down. I know you aren’t the Kate from here, and I know you came from...oh. You were...you were in the middle of something over there. I...see._ ”

I was practically sputtering “ _Cas - this is beyond weird. I don’t -_ “

“Cas! We don’t have time for this. We need to get Sam. Please.” Dean’s expression and tone were desperate and confused, and his hand was on my arm.

Wait a second…” _Sam? Where’s Sam? What’s going -_ “

“ _Kate, I need to focus on this rescue. Please try to...settle yourself...and we’ll talk when this is over._ ”

“Yes, Dean. Let’s go,” Cas said, pushing off the wall and following Dean down another corridor.

Realizing that Sam was in danger, I quickly shut up, pushing my curiosity into a closet somewhere. Being pregnant was definitely going into the top ten of completely weird sensations. 

Being a vessel? 

Topped it by a million.

There was no question that I was only along for the ride - moving and seeing and talking. But it _wasn’t me_. I couldn’t make a finger twitch or an eyelid blink. _Nothing_ was within my control.

Castiel’s presence was right “next” to mine. I wasn’t worried or scared in the ways I was before...even if this wasn’t _my_ Castiel. No one else knew I was around, so there wasn’t any immediate danger to _me_.

I just needed to get used to being a passive participant. It was like being in a first-person video game, where you were the person, and someone else manned the joystick.

Dean slowed at the end of the hallway, holding up his hand for silence. He turned and nodded at me, giving some sort of hand signal. My face scrunched up, and Cas mouthed, “What?”

Dean rolled his eyes and gestured impatiently with his knife - _oh hey!_ It’s the knife we found at Adam’s house...the one with all the markings. I guess Cas understood what to do, because my head nodded, and I moved in front of a door. Holding out my arm, I felt a surge of energy flow through me, gather together, and channel through my arm and out of my hand.

The result was the door being blown inward, shattering into several pieces as it hit the floor across the room. There were several shouts of surprise, right before I stepped through the doorway, heralding the start of another fight.

Dean shouldered his way past, shouting Sam’s name as he shoved the knife deep into one of the thugs guarding the room. The man’s eyes widened, as the blade slid past his skin, and a bright light flashed from his eyes and mouth, dimming as he died.

What the hell?

“ _Demons_ ,” Cas supplied.

If I had a mouth to move, I would’ve sucked in a breath. That knife _kills demons?_ Holy fuck, I needed to tell Dad.

Cas flicked my arm, and a long, silver blade slid out of my sleeve and into my hand as I entered the fray. 

By the end, six dead bodies were on the floor, and no indication that they were once possessed by spawns from Hell. Six innocent people. All dead. Each death bloody and violent. 

I could feel Castiel’s compassion for the hosts - a prayer was thought-spoken, wishing that their souls were in Heaven.

I hoped the demons were burning in Hell.

“Sam…” Dean choked, pulling my attention away from the victims. But I wasn’t able to turn my head and follow the noise. That was gonna get seriously irritating, _really fast._

In what felt like slow motion, Cas turned around. In the far corner of the room sat Sam, tied to a chair. His head lolled against his chest, and there were bruises all over his face. Dean crouched in front of him, removing a gag and speaking soft words of assurance. “I got you, little brother. We’re gonna get you out of here, okay?” 

Sam’s eyes fluttered open, and I think he groaned a little. He definitely turned towards Dean’s voice, letting us know he understood what was going on.

I was straining to run over, help him to his feet, touch his cheek, anything. But all I could do was watch, and watch impassively.

“ _I’m **not** impassive about your brothers._ ”

I sighed...well, mentally sighed. “ _It **feels** impassive, Cas, because I’m just standing here. I’m not over there._ ”

Castiel frowned. “ _I’m not accustomed to this vessel struggling with my actions._ ”

“ _Well that’s...wait, are you serious?_ ” How could this Kate not struggle with this? It was driving me nuts, and it’d been all of five minutes.

“Cas! We’re ready. Zap us out of here!” Dean had his arm around Sam’s shoulders, looking at me expectantly.

“Of course, Dean.”

I walked over, touched both their arms, and we blinked out of sight.

Okay, I’m sure to everyone around us, we blinked out of sight. That’s not how it looked from, well, the inside. On the inside, we seemed to enter a tunnel, where the sides were pictures, swirling every which way. The pictures, I’m thinking, were places we could go. The closer the picture to us, closer that place was to us.

We glided through it, passing several options, until Cas chose one that resembled a motel room. Then he simply stepped into the picture, and we were there.

Now, I didn’t have a watch trained on this event, but I’m thinking that in reality (ha), it took all of a second, even though it felt much longer.

As soon as we appeared, Dean went straight for a bed, helping Sam sit on the edge. “Cas - hold him up, would you? I’m gonna get a towel.”

Cas moved to Sam’s side, taking hold of his arm, while Dean scurried into the bathroom. I watched Sam’s face, aching to hold him, and wondering how he was doing. I wanted Cas to hold Sam closer, be more tender, ask him what he needed. But I kept my mouth (mind?) shut. I didn’t know the rules of this universe.

“ _This may help._ ”

Cas did something that felt like opening a gate (I’m surprised no hinges creaked for authenticity), and I suddenly felt and heard Sam’s thoughts.

He was tired, he was sore, he wanted to sleep, he wondered where Dean went, he had information about what the demons were doing next, his head hurt, he was cold, he was worried, he missed Dad, he wanted Dean.

I mentally blinked at the onslaught.

Was that what I did to _my_ Cas all the time? Yeesh…

Dean rushed back into the room and began dabbing the towel on Sam’s cheek, which was bruised from a well-placed punch.

“ _Cas - can’t you just -_ “

“ _I know, Kate._ ”

Cas cleared my throat. “Dean - I can just...you know.” My fingers waggled and pointed at Sam.

Dean’s chin dropped to his chest. “You’re right. I...I forgot. Would you? Please?”

He pulled himself to his feet and took a small step back, passing the washcloth between his hands, and giving me this hopeful look.

Cas nodded, placing two fingers against Sam’s temple, and once again, I felt a combination of cool and warm energy course through me and my fingertips, entering Sam’s body. I watched Sam heal - the blood vessels in his cheek repairing themselves, the gash on his side mended without a scar, the headache dissipated as his blood pressure lowered. All of this I saw, on a molecular level.

Even though I was trapped as an angel’s vessel in an unknown universe, I recognized how cool that was. More importantly, Sam felt better, and the expression on his face confirmed just that.

Dean once more crouched in front of him. “Hey, kiddo, you okay?”

Sam blinked a few times, then twisted to stretch his back. “Yeah,” he croaked, clearing his throat.

Dean was up and heading into the bathroom. “I’ll get you some water...hold on.”

Sam nodded and sighed. “Thanks, Cas.”

Cas nodded. “Anytime, Sam.”

Dean rushed back, somehow managing to keep all the water in the glass. “Here…” Dean handed it over, and helped Sam hold it as he drank.

“Mmm...thanks.”

Dean took the glass and set it on the table. “Okay,” he said, pulling off his jacket. “What the fuck happened?”

Sam sighed again, and ran his fingers through his hair. “They got the jump on me outside the coffee shop last night. I don’t know how. They just did. They couldn’t possess me because…” He pulled his collar out to reveal the tattoo. “So they just kept me tied up in a corner.”

He paused to look up at Dean. “I think they wanted you to show up and try to rescue me, but I don’t think they expected Cas.”

Dean chuckled. “No one expects my Cas.”

Sam gingerly stood, and took off his jacket. “I did find out that they’re planning on making a lot of short term deals. They want more souls in Hell for some reason.” His nose wrinkled at the smell of his jacket. “Oh God, I stink. I need a shower.”

Dean nodded, waving a hand in front of his face. “Yeah, you do. And then you need some sleep. Go get cleaned up. We’ll talk more when you’re done.”

Nodding back, Sam grabbed his duffel and headed into the bathroom.

Once the door clicked shut, Dean turned to me and folded his arms. “Okay… _your_ turn. What the hell happened back there? You said something changed...what changed?”

“ _What are you going to tell him?_ ”

“ _The truth, what else?_ ”

“ _Wait - no! You can’t do that!_ ”

“ _Really? Why is that?_ ”

“ _My Castiel said it could be damaging. I don’t want to do anything that could hurt them._ ”

“ _I don’t wish that either. Besides, I highly doubt this would hurt them._ ”

“ _What the hell does that mean?_ ”

“Cas??”

“I’m sorry, Dean. There was a...shift...in this vessel.”

Dean unfolded his arms. “A shift? What does that mean? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Dean. I promise. It was just a bit...startling, and most definitely ill-timed.”

I huffed. “ _That wasn’t my fault. I can’t control this._ ”

“ _I understand that. But you have to admit - the timing was pretty bad._ ”

Dean nodded. “Alright. So what shifted?”

Cas hesitated, so I gambled. “ _Compromise, Cas. How about you and I talk before you tell him?_ ”

Cas tilted my head and said, “Let me sort it out first. I haven’t had time to properly process it all.”

Dean considered this, then nodded slowly. “Okay, sounds fair. I want to talk with Sam a bit once he gets out anyway. But afterwards, I wanna go to bed, and you can share then. That okay?”

Cas smiled. “Absolutely.”

Dean turned and started rifling through his duffel, waving one hand at me. “Go get changed. I hate it when you sleep in that fucking coat.”

Cas looked down, and go figure - I was wearing a tan trenchcoat.

“ _Really?_ ” I couldn’t believe that clothing options spanned universes.

“ _What? I like this coat._ ” “I like this coat, Dean.”

“I do too, Cas. Doesn’t mean you have to sleep in it.”

“ _You **sleep** in it? That’s...I don’t even know what that is._ ”

Cas closed my eyes, and when they opened, we were wearing shorts and a tank top. “ _Better?_ ”

“ _Yes, it is, actually. Just a little...skimpy…_ ”

Dean looked me up and down. “ _Much_ better, Cas.”

“I thought it would be.”

How did Cas keep track of all these conversations?

Cas sat on the bed closest to the door (isn’t that Dean’s bed?) scooting until he lay on the side by the window. “I’ll just be here while you speak with Sam.”

Dean smiled and winked over his shoulder. “Sounds good.” He piddled about with wards and weapons, while the shower ran.

Something was weird. I couldn’t put my finger on it (HA) but something wasn’t quite...right. Then again, I’d only been here a handful of minutes. I figured I’d chat with Cas, and maybe pieces would start falling into place.

I decided to start easy by asking, “So...you know who I am?”

“ _From what your Castiel imprinted, you are their sister, trapped in a series of leaps into various realities._ ”

“ _Okay...so that encoding thing worked. Awesome. Am I their sister here?_ ”

Cas glanced at Dean, who was changing in a corner of the room. “ _You are...but you were not close with the Winchesters. In fact, you did not know they existed when I chose you as my vessel._ ”

Cas kept my eyes trained on Dean, who was shucking off his pants and walking around in his boxers. I felt like snapping my fingers to get some attention.

“ _Chose me? Why? Is my dad around? Bobby?_ ”

Cas sighed and drew my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them, keeping Dean in my line of sight. “ _I sought you because I was destined to serve the Winchesters. Having a vessel from their bloodline made the connection that much...stronger. Your father died years ago. Bobby Singer is still alive._ ”

This is my, what, fifth leap? Each reality is vastly different, every set up something new. But it still hurt, every time, when I learned that someone in my family was gone, even though I didn’t know or interact with them at all.

How many times was I supposed to lose them?

Sam came out of the bathroom, and tossed his things in a corner. He and Dean sat at the table and spoke together in low voices. I wanted to hear what happened, if he was okay, what was next -

“ _Sam is fine, Kate. You already know that._ ”

I huffed. “ _So...this me doesn’t mind being a vessel?_ ”

Cas shook my head, even though we were speaking internally. “ _She was not faring well when I found her. Being my vessel was a...better option._ ”

Better option than what? I was about to ask, when Dean rose from the table, clapped Sam on the shoulder, and walked over. Cas stopped talking to me as soon as Dean stood. I felt my heart rate quicken, and Cas ran my tongue over my lips.

Um… _whoa_ , there…

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Sam toss a grin our way, before slipping on headphones and crawling into his bed. The bed dipped, and Dean was there, lifting the covers and sliding in next to me.

 _Oh_ , uh…

“ _Cas?_ ”

No answer.

“So...ready to tell me what’s going on?” Dean asked, his voice low and husky, his face close to mine.

Oh...oh my God…

Cas rolled onto my side propping my head on my arm. “There was a temporal shift in this vessel’s consciousness. It’s fine, now.”

Dean lay down and wrinkled his brow. “You sure? She’s okay?”

Cas nodded. “She is still fine.”

He nodded and let out a breath. “Sometimes I wonder, Cas. I mean...does she know? Does she understand what’s going on?”

Cas shook my head. “She knew enough to accept me as her vessel. But her mind was not...is not...capable of much more. I told you, Dean, she’s at peace, now. Trust me.”

Um…okay this was starting to creep me out a little. What happened to me? What does ‘at peace’ mean? It sounds like I’m dead, or a vegetable or...oh.. _.crap_. I’m obviously not dead...so...

Dean rested against his pillow, and reached out to touch my hair. “You _know_ I trust you.” He gazed into my eyes, and I felt _myself_ shrink back just a tad. Cas, however, leaned into it. 

“Then do not worry anymore.”

No matter what I did, I got no response from Cas. It was as if I were shut in a corner, and was simply being ignored.

Awesome.

Then, it happened. 

Dean leaned close, and kissed me. It was nothing like the kiss we shared at home. This was...this was something else entirely.

It was gentle, yet intense...tender, but insistent.

It was hot ( _guh_ …), and also felt like I was kissing my brother.

Apparently, Cas didn’t have that issue.

Speaking of which…. _Cas was into Dean? What the hell?_ Did that mean...was....I mean, were they…

Hold on.

While the necking and petting continued, I frantically ran over my conversations with this Castiel. I realized, with a start, that Cas’s voice wasn’t my Cas’s voice. If Cas wasn’t in the vessel I was used to, then how could I hear that voice? I must have projected it, because I identified with it. But...that was definitely not the voice I really heard.

Whoa. 

Is he even a _he?_

“ _I have no gender, actually. If that helps._ ”

“ _Not really!_ ”

Cas actually paused a moment during a particularly passionate kiss. “ _I see...you and your Castiel are together in your world?_ ”

Aaaaaand cue the fumbling. “ _Yes! I mean, no! Well, it’s nothing defined, but...he...I… **fuck**._ ”

Cas chuckled, low and throaty. “ _It sounds like you have some issues to work out. Now, if you’ll excuse me…_ ”

This turn of events left my head spinning. Dean and Castiel were together. This me was totally a non-entity. But I’m not a non-entity now. Right _now_ , I’m passively having sex with my brother. How do you even _do_ that?

Yeah, this weirdness trumped everything else so far.

Dean applied pressure against my chest, pushing me until I lay on my back. Placing a hand under my shirt, he massaged my breast, looping one leg over mine. His eyes searched my face, and I was struck at the depth of affection reflecting back. 

It was too easy to identify Dean’s capacity for passion. He had no problem demonstrating said passion in regards to women, food, family, interests. He wore them on his sleeve, brandishing them like a badge of honor. It was how he defined himself to the world around him.

But on the inside...I always knew Dean had immeasurable capacity for love. When he felt, he felt completely and utterly, no room for debate. No sacrifice was too large, no concession too small.

“ _That is what draws me to him._ ”

Dean leaned down, and kissed my neck, tracing a line with his lips toward my ear. His hand, I noticed, strategically slid down my body to -

“ _And his...talents...are also enjoyed._ ”

I heard the smile in Castiel’s voice, and I was once again completely shut out. 

Well, not completely shut out. Here’s the thing. Cas wasn’t talking to me anymore. His (I can’t say “its”) mind was closed off. But _this_ body was still _my_ body, and I was _completely aware_ of what was going on. More bizarre, was that the physical responses weren’t mine. They were mine, but not mine, but I _felt_ them, I just couldn’t _control_ them or react to them.

Try to process _that_ clusterfuck.

Then, things got a little more...intimate. There’s no point in me actually describing everything Dean did and what Cas did back, because I don’t think I could make the words go. At one point, I tried to “close my eyes”, but I couldn’t. So I tried closing my mind’s eye. 

That didn’t work either.

My body’s reactions were intense. Sweat ran down my face, my breathing was labored, and every limb was wrapped around Dean’s rigid body and when we climaxed, I _swear to God_ I saw stars just before Dean rolled off me.

Cas closed my eyes, and lay there, panting from the exertion. Maybe I blacked out for a second.

I was simultaneously repulsed and turned on.

_I’m **so** going to Hell._

The bed jiggled as Dean sneezed next to me.

“Bless you,” I said, without thinking. 

Hold on... 

I _said_ it? 

My eyes flew open, revealing a disheveled young Dean sitting next to me. His face was partly covered by tissues and his eyes closed as he sneezed yet again. It was daytime, and we were definitely not in that motel room and we _definitely_ did not just - 

“Do we _really_ have to run today?” I turned my head and saw a very scrawny teenage Sam, sitting on a second bed, massaging his stomach. “I don’t think I can do five miles.” 

Dean tossed the used Kleenex into a waste basket, which, I noted, was already full of similar tissue wads. “Doe choice, Sabby. He wants us to rud, so we rud.” 

I squinted at him. Was that English? 

Sam sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Seriously, Dean, I can’t do it. I threw up after yesterday’s session, and pulled a muscle in my leg.” 

Dean sighed. “Yeah, well I feel like death right dow. I dod’t wadda rud either. Deed to breathe…” He blew his nose again and huffed. 

“ _Fine_. I guess if I die while training, it’ll be a noble death.” 

Dean tried to snort, but it didn’t quite work out. He nudged me with a foot. “What’s up with you? Why do you look like you have doe idea what’s going ond?” He sniffled pathetically and leaned back against the wall. 

I cleared my throat, enjoying that I could even do that. “Um...messed up dream...that’s all.” Rubbing my eyes, I looked around. I didn’t recognize the room, but it was obvious that we weren’t in a motel. Slowly, I sat up, adjusting to the abrupt switch in scenery and scenarios. 

I really fucking needed _one goddamn minute_ , to process what just happened to me. 

Dean looked horrible. He was breathing through his mouth, I’m assuming because of the congestion, and dark circles were under his eyes. Frowning, I asked, “Do you have a fever?” I could’ve probably just reached out and felt his forehead. But I was a tad shy about touching him just then. 

He shook his head no. “Just allergies. I hope.” He coughed into his arm. “I think.” He coughed again. “But it’s godda raind today, so…” He shrugged and sneezed again. “Jesus Christ…” 

Allergies? “Is there a cat here?” 

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you crazy? I’d be dead by dow.” He waved his hand around. “Just...spring.” 

Spring? Really? 

Sam got to his feet, a pained expression on his face. “Great. If it rains, then I’ll get sick. Fanfuckingtastic.” He shuffled out of the room. 

I really needed that minute, so I said, “Okay...I’m...going to the bathroom.” 

Dean just sneezed and nodded. 

I peeked into the hallway. It was a normal looking hallway, just not one that I recognized. Not knowing where the bathroom was, I chose left and took two steps when Sam exited a room on my right. 

“What’re you doing?” He asked, in a voice that hadn’t fully dropped yet. 

“...Bathroom?” I answered, knowing at that moment, I chose the wrong direction. 

Sam looked over his shoulder at the room he just vacated, then back at me. “Oooooo-kay, then maybe --” 

I flapped a hand at him. “Yeah, yeah - I know. Was looking at the...stuff....” There was no stuff for me to randomly look at. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He went back into their room and I heard more whining as the door closed. 

The bathroom was small but tidy. I closed the door and immediately checked myself in the mirror. I looked...like me. A younger me - maybe late teens? I had a scar over my right eyebrow, but otherwise looked normal. 

Definitely not a mentally drooling mess as my last shift indicated. 

Feeling like I earned a victory somewhere, I splashed water on my face, trying to clear the cobwebs and get ready for whatever this reality would throw at me. I reached for a towel and stopped short as I spied a two shelf cabinet mounted above the towel rack. Each shelf was crammed full of prescription and over-the-counter bottles and boxes in all sizes, pills and liquids. 

_Holy shit…_

On the toilet tank sat some equipment I remember seeing in school nurse offices. Stuff for asthma sufferers, I think? What’s it called...a nebulizer? 

I looked at every bottle and box on those shelves. The medications covered all sorts of afflictions, including allergies, ulcers, asthma, upset stomachs, skin irritations, migraines, regular headaches, muscle aches, infections, nausea, diarrhea (oh, come on…), fevers, congestions, dizziness... 

...and they were _all_ for Sam and Dean. 

**XXXxxxxXXX TBC XXXxxxxXXX**


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHH I thought I posted Chapter 6, but it was sitting there as a DRAFT. ERG! Um. Yeah, you need Chapter 6 before Chapter 7. Because it's...yeah. Go read 6!

**_Previously, in Quantum AU…_ **

The bathroom was small but tidy. I closed the door and immediately checked myself in the mirror. I looked...like me. A younger me - maybe late teens? I had a scar over my right eyebrow, but otherwise looked normal.

Definitely not a mentally drooling mess as my last shift indicated.

Feeling like I earned a victory somewhere, I splashed water on my face, trying to clear the cobwebs and get ready for whatever this reality would throw at me. I reached for a towel and stopped short as I spied a two shelf cabinet mounted above the towel rack. Each shelf was crammed full of prescription and over-the-counter bottles and boxes in all sizes, pills and liquids.

_Holy shit…_

On the toilet tank sat some equipment I remember seeing in school nurse offices. Stuff for asthma sufferers, I think? What’s it called...a nebulizer?

I looked at every bottle and box on those shelves. The medications covered all sorts of afflictions, including allergies, ulcers, asthma, upset stomachs, skin irritations, migraines, regular headaches, muscle aches, infections, nausea, diarrhea (oh, come on…), fevers, congestions, dizziness...

...and they were all for Sam and Dean.

**XXXXX**

**_Now…_ **

My head spun at the amount of medicine crammed onto those shelves. Seriously - some were stacked on top of each other and threatening to fall onto the floor. 

Now, we pride ourselves in a well stocked med kit. Dad always emphasized the importance of being ready for anything. But this...this was a _bit_ beyond that directive.

I’ll admit that growing up, we weren’t always in the best of environments. Run down motels and apartments were all we could afford. Food was a necessity, but nutritional food was a luxury. Teenage years meant a lot of all-you-can-eat buffets, where the boys could fill up at a reasonable cost. But despite all that, Dad made sure we were fit and trained, and sickness wasn’t that common. 

I’m guessing that moving around so much exposed us to a bazillion different cooties, which in turn strengthened our immune systems. Probably an unexpected bonus of the whole situation that Sam couldn’t really appreciate in the moment. That doesn’t mean they didn’t get sick - because they did. But it wasn’t anything chronic or ongoing.

So it was really difficult for me to process how they could be this sick _here_.

I left the bathroom and went back to the boys, pausing outside the door and, admittedly, eavesdropped on them. I figured that given the circumstances, I was fully justified in using any method necessary to gather information.

All I heard through the door was sighing and sniffling, shuffling and sneezing, none of which gave an indication of what this reality had in store for me. I knocked on the door, and jumped a little when Dean opened it, sneezing almost in my face.

“Whoa! Cover, dude!” I wiped my shirt and rolled my eyes.

He scrambled for a tissue, sneezing again. “Sorry…” he mumbled. “Took be by surprise. You doe I can’t help it.” He sniffled again, and blew his nose, shooting a pathetic look over the Kleenex.

Sighing, I reached out and felt his forehead. Instead of ducking or swatting my hand away, he leaned into my touch, shoulders slumping. 

“You don’t have a fever,” I murmured, sliding my hand through his hair and scratching the back of his head. He hummed back and sighed.

“I just feel like crap.”

Christ, they know how to get to me. I pulled him close, until his head rested on my shoulder. “I know you do. Did you take anything?”

He nodded.

“Recently?”

Another nod.

“Okay, so we just need to wait for it to kick in, right?”

Third nod, followed by a sneeze onto my fucking shoulder. “Thank you for that,” I said with a smile, squeezing him. Dean’s head shot up, and he took a step back. Puzzled, I tried to pull him back, but he was shaking his head, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Sorry…” he mumbled again, and began to turn away.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa...relax! I was teasing!” Mental note: This Dean was _sensitive_.

He sniffled and just stood there, staring at the floor. I was about to be more placating when I felt a tug on my sleeve. Sam was holding up two plastic pieces, a confused look on his face.

“I think...I think it’s broken. Can you fix it?” He had his Eyes out, and combined with this slouchy posture, he looked fifteen shades of sad.

“Um...maybe? Lemme see it.” Dean was preoccupied with another sneezing fit, which gave me a minute to check out Sam’s problem. He gestured at another nebulizer device thing sitting on a night stand. 

“I need...I need to use it, and I can’t get that little part there into the slot thing and I don’t know what to do.” He handed over the pieces and began rubbing his chest, coughing softly. His lower lip quivered, and he looked about to cry.

Over _plastic?_

Dean was settling down, leaning against a dresser to keep himself upright. Taking the pieces from Sam, I used one to point at Dean, wanting to make sure he didn’t run off in search of solitary confinement. “Don’t go anywhere.” His eyes widened, and he nodded, looking like I caught him stealing candy.

For Christ’s sake…

I focused on the machine, and figured out how the pieces went together. In the back of my mind, I was waiting for Dean to shove me out of the way and fix it himself, because, well, that’s his job. But it never happened, leaving a vague sense of _Not Right Not Right_ in the pit of my stomach. After snapping the parts in place (nothing was broken, I think he had one piece upside down), Sam sighed in relief and sank onto the bed, giving me this expectant look.

“Uh...what?”

Frowning, he waved his hand over the nebulizer and picked up the mouthpiece, waggling it at me.

_Shit._

I’ve _seen_ these things before. I’ve never _worked_ one.

“Yeeeeeahhh...” I glanced over my shoulder at Dean, who was watching with a calculating look on his face.

Oh wow - was that… _jealousy?_

_Really?_

“Hey - how about we all do it together? I put the pieces together. Dean - you come, uh, do the next part.” I finished with a brilliant smile, and fuck me, it worked. Dean perked up at being included, and grabbed a bottle sitting next to the machine. Sam nodded and settled on the bed, resting his back against the wall.

I sat and watched closely as Dean flawlessly added medicine and handed Sam a mouthpiece/mask attached to the device by a long tube. Once I saw how it all fit together, I was confident I could do it on my own should the need arise. Sam held the mask in his hands, shifting it back and forth. He peeked at me from beneath his bangs.

Aw man, I cave at that look all the time.

“What?” I ask, irritated that they can easily manipulate me no matter the circumstances.

He looked pointedly at the bed, then back at me. I raised an eyebrow. Huffing, he reached out and took my hand, pulling me until I sat next to him. He smiled the smile of children who always get their way, and settled the mouthpiece in his mouth.

Dean turned on the machine, and got up to go, his head hanging.

I grabbed the sleeve of his sweatshirt. He tried to look confused, as if he had no idea what my intentions were.

Sensitive Dean likes to play hard to get.

I raised one eyebrow until he rubbed the back of his neck, and sheepishly crawled over the tubing and settled on my other side.

So there I was, in the middle of the bed, with a miserable brother on either side. Sam’s head rested on my shoulder, his mask smelling faintly of plastic and menthol. His fingers were entwined in mine, and he idly toyed with the hem of my shirt. Dean curled into a ball and laid his head in my lap. He shuddered when I rubbed his back, and pressed a balled up tissue under his nose.

The thrum of Sam’s machine filled the room, like one of those scented candles that’s supposed to calm your nerves. I don’t know if those things worked, but this gentle, rhythmic motor was doing the trick. Closing my eyes, I cleared my mind like Dad taught me, and sorted through this reality.

I had two sick, no, _sickly_ , brothers, here. There was something about their demeanor that wasn’t sitting well with me. When my brothers were needy, I moved mountains for them. But there’s a reason for that.

They weren’t needy _people_. They just have needy moments.

I mean, they have needs, and we need each other, but both boys were independent. They didn’t like asking for help, and Dean especially, had a hard time accepting it.

This Dean? I glanced down as he burrowed his way closer, rubbing his itching nose against my leg with a sigh. This Dean was…

...pathetic.

I know that didn’t sound kind. He’s ridden with allergies and doesn’t feel well. I know that. But I couldn’t help comparing alternate reality brothers to my real brothers, and perhaps that wasn’t fair, but how could I not?

He muffled a sneeze into his tissue, and curled into a tighter ball, whimpering.

_Sigh._

And God knew _my_ Sam could whine when the occasion struck him. Nevermind how often that was. But _this_ Sam’s whining was a part of him. I could feel it.

So yes, I still sat here holding hands and carding hair and loving the quiet and the company, but it felt off.

I snorted to myself. Like being a vessel or pregnant with Dad’s baby felt on.

Dean’s differences struck me more than Sam’s. Honestly? My Sam has his moments where he’s one step away from this Sam. But not Dean. Even when my Dean’s pressed against me feeling like shit, there’s a presence about him. The presence part is lacking here.

Sighing again, I mentally shook myself and stopped being a bitch over people I didn’t know. Who the fuck cared, really? I was stuck here for now. No one was dying, no was was trying to make dying happen, and no one was dead, I chided myself. Let sick brothers cuddle.

Who cares?

In a while, Sam’s hands went slack, and after one particularly nice body twitch, I knew he was asleep. One peek at Dean told me he was passed out as well. The tissue he normally held in a death grip lay in the middle of his palm, teetering on the edge of his hand. 

Since they were asleep, I figured it was a good time to snoop around. I carefully extracted myself, making sure to cover them with blankets and tuck them in before sneaking out of the room.

They make be pathetic, but that didn’t mean I wanted them to be cold.

I made my way down the hallway, noting that there weren’t any pictures on the walls to help me piece together information. Pausing at the top of the stairs, I gave in to the fear of facing whatever was down there. Perhaps down there, someone wanted dying to occur.

I swallowed a couple times and took a deep breath. Hiding upstairs wasn’t going to change that I was here, and a drill-sergeant Dad was down there waiting for us to run.

I tiptoed down a few steps, but stopped as soon as I heard voices. I sat down, keeping my feet out of sight, and wondered who Dad was talking to.

“ _*sigh*_ I know, Sweetheart, but there ain’t much we can do!”

Fuck - I know _that_ voice. It’s Ellen! I was about to run downstairs until I heard her say, “John’s not picking up, and I don’t think he ever will. We ain’t heard from him in over a year, so what makes you think he’ll answer now?”

That stopped me. Dad wasn’t here? Dad wasn’t in the picture...at all? So who’s she talking to? Who’s making the boys run?

“I know, El. I just...I’m worried about them. They’re sick all the time, and Kate can’t keep making excuses for them.”

My mind whirled, piecing together the mystery voice.

“Bill, we gotta pick our battles. Kate’s been trained to raise them. She ain’t used to anyone else takin’ charge. John set that up, and I don’t see how we can change it.”

Jo’s father _Bill?_ I didn’t expect _that_...

“But it’s been a year, Ellen. _A year._ Can’t she see that we’re trying to help?”

“She sees her brothers upset, she knows they’re not well, and - “

“ _*sigh*_ And _that_ shit has to stop. There’s no way they need all that crap, El, and you know it.”

Amen to that.

At least, that’s what I wanted to believe.

“Bill, we don’t really know that. John’s never been able to figure out if that Demon really did something to them or made them think it did. Either way, why are we fighting with them over it? I don’t see how it’s worth it.”

Something banged, startling me. “I dunno either. Fine. Just...fine. I’m done.” There were footsteps, then a door slammed.

Biting my lip, I crept the rest of the way downstairs, and found Ellen leaning against a dining room table, shaking her head. When she heard me approach, she stood and shook herself, turning to face me with a strained smile on her face.

“Mornin’, Kate!” Her whole tone belied the conversation she just had with her husband. I could tell the pleasant tone was forced.

I flicked my tongue over my lips, trying to figure out how to handle this. “Hey, Ellen…” I wandered over, stopping in front of her. What I wanted, was a hug. But from what Bill said, I gathered I was a tiny handful.

Ellen cleared her throat and picked up a dish towel lying on the table. “Hungry? Want some eggs?” She asked over her shoulder as she walked towards what I assumed was the kitchen.

I hadn’t eaten since I was twelve and living with Sam. And that’s not the most accurate way to judge time. Well, wait. That’s the last time I _remember_ eating. I didn’t know when _this_ body ate last. My stomach growled. Apparently a while ago. “Actually, yeah, thanks.”

I smiled, following her, noting a slight frown appearing on her face before she turned around.

We entered the kitchen, and Ellen waved me to a seat at the table. Instantly, I obeyed, because, hey - _always do whatever Ellen says_. I sat with my head propped on my hand, and eyed my surroundings. The house was orderly and neat, very much like Ellen. There was no sign of Jo, either in pictures or in person, so I didn’t ask about her.

Ellen opened the fridge and pulled out some eggs. Feeling stupid just sitting there, I asked, “You want some help?”

Ellen shook her head, setting a bowl next to the eggs and cracking a few into it. “I’m fine, thanks.” She glanced at me over her shoulder. “How’re the boys?”

Carefully, I answered with a shrug, “They’re sleeping. Sam’s using his, uh, nebulizer. Said he needed it. And Dean passed out from sneezing so much. His allergies are pretty bad.”

Ellen’s shoulders stiffened a bit, and she began attacking the eggs with a whisk. I thought back to Dean’s behavior and Sam’s tone, and before I could stop myself, I added, “And they’re being a bit whiny about it.” I froze, keeping my eyes on the table, as I cringed on the inside. 

That should not have come out of my mouth.

It took another heartbeat for me to realize that the egg beating had stopped. Hesitantly, I looked up.

And got a face full of water.

Sputtering, I shoved my chair back and wiped the drops from my eyes. “What the hell, Ellen?”

She slammed the bottle of water on the counter and tossed me a towel. “Well, you’re not possessed. So tell me what the hell’s going on.” Leaning back against the counter, she folded her arms and crossed her legs at the ankles, and leveled a stare at me that could’ve bored a hole through concrete.

I carefully wiped my face, keeping one eye on Ellen. “What do you mean?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not acting normal. So start talkin’.”

I took my time dabbing my face with the towel, trying to figure out what to say. I settled for something lame. “How am I not normal? I’m trying to be nice, and - “

She pointed a finger at me. “Exactly. You aren’t nice. Ever.”

Oh. _Ouch_.

I figured I was playing many different roles in this whole escapade, but being an asshole didn’t seem like a part I could handle.

My mouth opened and closed, various explanations floating through my head, all of them bad. I tried this one, “Can we just say I’m having a temporary moment of clarity?”

Ellen crossed her arms again. “In our line of work, that doesn’t happen without a reason. You know that.”

I scrubbed my hands over my face and tossed the towel on the table. “I...I don’t know what to tell you.” Cas said not to tell. But it was killing me. The need to explain this, like I did with Pastor Jim, was overwhelming. 

I wanted someone to help, someone who wasn’t going to blink away for celestial duty.

Desperation flooded me, and I scrambled for what to do. My head started pounding, and I could feel the blood rushing in my ears. I knew what that meant, and I couldn’t help it - I laughed. 

I laughed, because the timing of it all was just too precious for words. 

But laughing in Ellen Harvelle’s face when she suspects you’re not who you say you are was a really stupid move.

Something hard and heavy hit me in the head, and then everything went dark.

**xxxxx**

When I woke up, I expected sharp pain and maybe a trickle of blood down my face.

Not so much.

It was comfortable, I was warm in a bed, and it was quiet.

I’ll take it.

I peeled open one eye and cautiously looked around. The other followed suit as I sat up slowly, my mouth open.

I was in my room.

_My room._

There’s Bear, there’s my duffel, my clothes, my dirty laundry...everything was there. Holy fucking shit - I’m home!

I leaped out of bed and tore into the hallway, stopping at Sam and Dean’s room. They weren’t there, but _oh my God_ \- it’s really their room! Same sheets, same furniture arrangement, everything!

I practically leaped down the stairs, running into the kitchen. Bobby… _Bobby_...was casually leaning against the counter, a huge mug of coffee in his hands.

“Mornin’, Missy. What’s the rush?”

“Oh my God, Bobby! You won’t believe -- “

And then I noticed a woman standing next to him. She turned around, smiling, her eyes wrinkled with amusement. “Won’t believe what, Sweetie?”

I skidded to a halt, slipping on the linoleum floor and landing on my ass. My ankle twisted, and I swear I heard something pop.

“What the fuck?!” Bobby dropped his mug and ran over. 

I lay there, on the floor, pain shooting up my leg, my cheeks flaming red and tears springing to my eyes.

Mary Winchester was at my side in a second, her hand on my arm, concern on her face. “Oh, baby...are you okay?”

**XXXxxxXXX TBC XXXxxxXXX**


	8. Chapter 8

**_Previously, in Quantum AU…_ **

When I woke up, I expected sharp pain and maybe a trickle of blood down my face.

Not so much.

It was comfortable, I was warm in a bed, and it was quiet.

I’ll take it.

I peeled open one eye and cautiously looked around. The other followed suit as I sat up slowly, my mouth open.

I was in my room.

 _My room_.

There’s Bear, there’s my duffel, my clothes, my dirty laundry...everything was there. Holy fucking shit - I’m home!

I leaped out of bed and tore into the hallway, stopping at Sam and Dean’s room. They weren’t there, but _oh my God_ \- it’s really their room! Same sheets, same furniture arrangement, everything!

I practically leaped down the stairs, running into the kitchen. Bobby… _Bobby_...was casually leaning against the counter, a huge mug of coffee in his hands.

“Mornin’, Missy. What’s the rush?”

“Oh my God, Bobby! You won’t believe -- “

And then I noticed a woman standing next to him. She turned around, smiling, her eyes wrinkled with amusement. “Won’t believe what, Sweetie?”

I skidded to a halt, slipping on the linoleum floor and landing on my ass. My ankle twisted, and I swear I heard something pop.

“What the fuck?!” Bobby dropped his mug and ran over. 

I lay there, on the floor, pain shooting up my leg, my cheeks flaming red and tears springing to my eyes.

Mary Winchester was at my side in a second, her hand on my arm, concern on her face. “Oh, baby...are you okay?”

**XXXXX**

**_Now…_ **

Was I okay? I was about as far away from okay as a person could be. I tried to answer her, but despite my mouth going through the motions, no sound came.

I lay back against the floor and let the tears flow, hot and angry, down my cheeks, resting in small pools that clung to my hair. The total unfairness of it all consumed me, and I decided it was completely acceptable to let it wash over my body, both inside and out, and it didn’t matter who witnessed it.

My ankle throbbed, my knee felt out of whack, my ass was bruised, and all I could do was laugh the laugh that makes people call the white-coated men because _Mary Fucking Winchester_ was in my kitchen, fucking up what could have been my return to sanity.

Hands were on my leg and face, voices murmured in soothing tones tried to reach me, but I shut it all out.

I was still trapped.

That’s all that mattered.

I curled onto my side and tucked in, whimpering when my sore ankle brushed against the other, causing more tears to course down my face.

“Kate? Hey...c’mon...let me get you off the floor…” It was Dean. Which Dean? Sensitive Dean? Absent Dean? Asshole Rapist Dean? 

“Seriously, Squirt, uncurl. _Now_.”

 _Worse_. It was just _Dean_. I could hear it - so close to _my_ Dean that a grating laugh barked out of my mouth, and I shook my head. My voice sounded raspy, thick with spit and snot from crying. “I’m not your Squirt. She’s not me. Not now. I’m not her. I’m sorry. _I’m so sorry._ ”

Breaths came in huge gulps, never bringing enough to the table, requiring even bigger ones to compensate. This was when the shaking started, and I wondered if I let my head hit the floor enough times, would I end up home?

 _Huh_...actually, how will I know when I’m home? If every second could be split into infinite possibilities, how many possibilities would I embrace? How could I ever know if home is truly home, and not just a reality exactly similar to mine _up until some point?_

That’s when I rolled over and threw up.

The ensuing yelps of surprise were somehow satisfying, and I thought, that’s what you fuckers get for...for whatever. It’s just what you get.

Strong arms scooped up my trembling body and carried me into the living room. The voice attached to those arms groused in my ear, “You need a fucking toothbrush,” and I cackled again at how Dean _this_ Dean sounded. 

He gently deposited me on the couch, and I waited for the hovering to begin. I wished for a Kleenex, because Jesus Christ, my face was covered in tears and snot. As soon as that hit the mental atmosphere, a tissue did appear, and it gently wiped my eyes and nose, with the patience of a mother.

Speaking of which.

I sniffled pathetically (Sensitive Dean pathetic? _Nah_ …) and peeked. Yep. She’s still there, dabbing at my face, her brow wrinkled in concentration and worry. I squeezed my eyes shut again.

Breathe slow and deep, calm the heart, slow and deep.

“I got ACE bandages, Mom.”

“Thanks, Sam. Wrap it, would you?”

“What the hell was that all about?” Bobby asked this one, and again I laughed, because I didn’t even have to be here for this chitchat. And that made it funnier.

“I don’t know, Bobby. But right now, she just needs to _calm down_ , and then we can sort it out.” Leave it to a mom to passively insert commands in casual conversation. A mom. Whose mom? Did this Mary want to kill me too?

So close… _I was so fucking close…_

One huge hiccup sob escaped my lips and the anxiety ramped up again. The probing hands disappeared and somehow that felt even worse. Taking advantage of the respite, and curled back onto my side, shivering with my arms wrapped around myself. I willed everyone to just give me a minute...just go away and let me have this meltdown. I’ll be fine afterwards, I promise, and I’ll go back to serving my punishment, pretending to be a million different Kates in a million different universes, smiling and obeying and faking it all.

But right now, I just want to cry.

They let me, so I did.

The winding down process began when there were no more tears left (at least for now), and despair had adequately filled every nook and cranny in my being, creating this enveloping numb pocket that allowed me to think again. I kickstarted the breathing exercises, and somehow avoided a heart attack that would have only made today that much more fun.

Eyes were on me from afar - I could feel them boring into my back, calculating, assessing, wondering, worrying. That should have been enough to rouse me from this...this whatever it was. 

But not today.

So I just laid there, staring at Bobby’s desk, wondering when he would ever get around to finishing it like he swears he will every summer.

A pair of faded blue jeans obstructed my view, and without looking up, I knew who it was.

“I’m fine,” I whispered, my tone lacking the earnest necessary to be convincing.

I heard a sigh, and a scritching sound, which was probably Dean dragging a hand over the stubble he hadn’t shaved yet.

He plopped to the floor, just off to the side, so he wasn’t completely in my face. Without moving, I glanced at him. Head was bowed, hands clasping and unclasping in his lap, tension in his shoulders. Feeling my stare, he looked up, green eyes filled to bursting with unspoken questions.

I tested the water.

_If you hold me, I’ll lose it all over again._

The hand fidgeting stopped, and he sighed again.

The emptiness in my stomach yawned wider when he understood my thoughts. I swallowed convulsively to keep it together.

 _Not my Dean_ , I reminded myself. _Not my Dean. So close. But not my Dean._

Deep breath in. Slow breath… _ew_...

“I wouldn’t say no to a mint, though.”

His eyes closed with a shake of his head and a low chuckle. Nodding, he reached out and magically someone set an open tin of mints in his hand. Wordlessly, he held them out, one eyebrow raised, mouth curved into what could pass as a smile.

I flexed my hand before reaching out to take one. Three. My mouth tasted _baaaaad_. And my hands were shaking, so grabbing three was easier than fumbling for one.

The tin snapped shut, and was set on the floor. More silence, broken only by the mints tapping against my teeth as they played tag with my tongue.

With practiced patience, Dean simply sat and watched, knowing that I’d spill when ready. I gave myself the time to dissolve all three mints before deciding what to do. 

Shifting a little, I tucked a hand under my head, pressing my lips together when pain shot up my leg. His eyes flickered towards my ankle, but the deep breath I took drew his attention back to my face.

If this world was close to mine, then they could handle it. I was banking on them handling it.

I guess I didn’t really care if they couldn’t, because I plunged right in, asking, “Do you know Castiel?”

Dean’s eyes danced to the right, assumingly towards the others. “You know we do.”

My eyelids fluttered closed before opening again, my resolve building. “Call him.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Kate…”

Reaching out, I took hold of his hand, strong, calloused, _warm_. 

_Not my Dean_.

“Please.”

Narrowed eyes searched my face. Not convinced. I squeezed his hand.

“Sam can wrap my ankle. Your...mom...can check my knee.” His eyebrows raised at that part. _**Your** mom?_ I ignored him. “Bobby can do...whatever you want him to do. Just. Call. Cas. _Now_. I don’t know if he’ll answer me.”

Dean swallowed, and nodded. _Okay, I’ll humor you_. He gestured at the people just beyond my field of vision. Permission granted, they rushed over, rolling me onto my back and starting first aid triage as if I were bleeding out on the sofa. 

As Dean creaked to his feet, Sam took his place, crouching near, looking like a predator waiting for the right moment to pounce. If predators cuddled when they pounced. Because I knew that’s what he wanted.

I twitched when someone touched my ankle, eliciting swearing and apologies from Bobby. I sighed. “S’okay, Bobby.” He grunted a response and kept wrapping.

Sam was wringing his hands and I swore he was more upset than necessary. But when wasn’t that the case? 

Then again, he didn’t really know _this_ case.

How could I let him cuddle when he didn’t know who he was cuddling? We both wanted the same thing. But it wasn’t _fair_. It wasn’t fair to _him_.

“Hey.”

Hazel eyes laser focused on mine. 

“You can’t.” His face fell and his mouth opened to protest. I shook my head. “You can’t, because you don’t understand.” Goddamn tears welled once more. My voice broke. “I want it. You have to believe that. Because you’re… _fuck_...I can tell...you’re _so much_ like…” Deep breath. Too shaky. Try again. And again. Better. “It wouldn’t be right. Have to trust me. ‘Kay?”

Sam ran his hands through his hair and huffed out a frustrated breath. Eyes gazed at the ceiling before catching mine once more. He shook his head and flicked the ends of my hair.

It took everything in me not to crumble again.

I may have whimpered a tiny bit, though, which ripped through him like a knife. 

He cocked his head to the side. _I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about, but fuck you and your fairness bullshit._ He reached out anyway, and as soon as his arm moved, I was all, _thank fucking God please just fucking hold me_ , when Dean’s voice rang out. “Cas is here.”

I sat up, quicker than expected, almost bumping heads with Mary. There he stood, still in his trenchcoat, back in the vessel I knew. His head was turned a little to the side, blue eyes locked with mine, and I could see the gears turning.

I leaned forward, eyebrows up, hands in a _Get it now?_ gesture. Cas straightened, comprehension spreading across his face, and he nodded slowly.

Figuring I could just jump into the conversation, “This was too close to mine. I thought I was home. Only…” My eyes flickered to Mary, squatting next to me, eyes jumping from Cas to me and back again.

“Only it’s John who raised you, and Mary is dead,” Cas finished.

Nodding, I affirmed, “Yes.” 

The relief at being understood, and having this discussion in a non-life threatening situation drained most of the tension out of me. The other emotions still churned inside, uncomfortable and restless, but there was some relief.

Someone understood.

Well, whoops, only one person understood.

“What the Goddamn fucking hell is going on?” Dean growled.

Startled at the outburst, I looked around the room. Mary looked like I slapped her. She slowly rose to her feet, taking a step back. Without turning, I knew Sam silently got to his feet, moving to stand by his mom, his face screwed up in confusion and maybe a little fear.

And that’s what I meant. Not fair. You don’t understand.

_Not my Sam._

The increasing distance left me cold and alone. Aloner. More aloner.

_Sigh._

Shivering, I pressed the heel of one hand to my eye, and a few tears escaped. What’s a few more, today? “You explain it, Cas. I can’t.” I curled back up on the couch and closed my eyes, letting them have their family moment to learn the truth. 

I wasn’t theirs. And they weren’t mine. 

I don’t belong here. 

There was shuffling, and I’m thinking they pulled back several steps as Cas explained what was going on. I couldn’t make out the words, but their tones spoke volumes. Cas answered as patiently as he could with the limited information he had. I sniffled and tried to make myself as small as possible, running through scenarios of what would happen next. 

If they kill me, their Kate has no body to return to, so I think I’m safe on that front. I could end up in Bobby’s special basement room, which wouldn’t be so bad, I guess. 

Maybe I should’ve played along. Maybe I should’ve shut my fucking Goddamn mouth, and taken this family as is. If I enjoyed (mostly) resting with sick and whiny brothers, I should’ve been dancing with joy over brothers who were as identical as could be to my own. 

Not that I had any definitive proof of this...I mean, I was going off my gut feeling, here. But somehow I knew I was right. I just knew. 

And I blew it. 

I fucking blew it. 

More tears, but at least I wasn’t sobbing. This was resignation. Another wrong move, another mistake. No wonder I’m the weakest link in the Winchester chain. 

_Whoa_...pity train needs to pull into the station for a pit stop before it goes off a cliff. I clenched my eyes shut and got control of myself. 

Again. 

I’m gonna kill Uriel. 

“That would be difficult, given his strength.” 

Sighing, I opened my eyes and found Cas right in front of me, personal space rules forgotten. Viciously, I spat, “Right now, Cas, I don’t give a shit. He’s dying bloody.” 

Cas let that hang there a moment, nodding slowing, understanding my sentiment even if the statement itself was ridiculous. He nodded at my chest. “Do you have scars on your chest? In your world?” 

Swallowing hard, I nodded back. “Warlock amulet took a dive into me. You had me pull it out before you...sealed up the holes.” 

here was a gasp from somewhere in the room. 

Sighing, I sat up, noting that they were all over by the kitchen now, far away from me as possible without losing sight. I pulled on my upper lip with my teeth, considering my next words. “I’m sorry I...worried you. This bedroom, your bedrooms, everything is so...so close. Normally I just play along, but...I just...I thought I was home.” I looked at Mary. “I didn’t expect to see you...it...yeah. I’m sorry.” 

I set my feet on the floor and tested out my ankle, which was now wrapped and nicely swollen. Cas rocked back on his heels and stood. 

“How long will you be here?” 

“Million dollar question, Cas. I have no idea - it varies.” I unsteadily got to my feet, noting that Dean took an involuntary step toward me before stopping himself. 

_Not my Kate._

“I shift whenever I shift. Right after Jess and Sam got married. Right before Dean killed me. Right before the Sam-Azazel combo tried to kill me and Michael. Right after you fucked Dean. Right before I had Dad’s baby. Right after Ellen clocked me with a frying pan. I have no fucking idea when I’ll shift.” I was wobbling towards the stairs, keenly aware of the shock and horror and total _What The Fuck_ that radiated throughout the room. 

I’ve _never_ felt more alone than right this minute. 

Somehow I made it to the stairs during that rant, my arms out for balance as I managed the walk without help. The emotional outburst fueled me forward, despite the pain, both physical and emotional. One hand on the railing, I asked over my shoulder, “Can I just go to my...her...room and wait this out? I won’t...I’ll just wait there. Is that okay?” That last part was blatant begging. 

I glanced over my shoulder. _Please let it be okay, because I can’t sit here while you stare at me._

Mary nodded, her eyes wide, lips pressed together in what I suspected was barely suppressed...something. 

I nodded back, and hobbled upstairs, shutting myself in my… _her_...room. 

**xxxxx**

I gingerly sat on the bed, letting out a small cry of pain as the depth of my injuries sunk in. Without anyone else to distract me, I could now joyfully focus on how much my leg hurt. 

_Hooray…_

Luckily, there was a box of Kleenex on my night stand. Plucking a few, I wiped my eyes and blew my nose, feeling a tiny bit better now that I was facially dry. 

I leaned across the bed and snagged Bear off the pillow. Little Sam loved him. Sighing, I hugged it to my chest. Wonder if they had the contagion here, too. 

I wonder if it even mattered. 

With a huff, I set Bear down, and scooted until I could stretch out on the bed. I tucked a pillow under my ankle and took a look at my knee. It was already swollen and purple, indicating I did something awesome, but I’m not sure what I did. 

Again. I wonder if it even mattered. 

I laid down, palms open and kneading the sheet. What do I do now? Lay here and wait for a dizzy spell? There weren’t many other options at this point, so that’s what I did. Exhausted is how I felt, but I was terrified of falling asleep. Remembering the trick from Sam’s, I grabbed a book from my table and a pencil, opening to page one and scrawling, “You’re still fucked” in the margin. I shoved it under my pillow and closed my eyes. 

**xxxxx**

When I woke, daylight had faded, leaving the room mostly in shadows. I could make out vague outlines of the furniture, but it didn’t really matter, because I already knew where everything was. 

Wake up depressed, why don’t you. 

The first thing I registered was overwhelming pain pulsing up and down the lower half of my leg. I hadn’t taken anything for it, so naturally both joints were probably swollen beyond recognition. It threatened to drown all thought, so I tried really hard not to let that happen. 

Second thing I registered was the overwhelming need to pee, and given the first thing I registered, I wasn’t sure how this was gonna go down. 

I just knew that pissing this bed was _not_ going to improve my mood. 

Or theirs. 

I reached over to turn on my lamp, which was, naturally, exactly where it should be. 

_Sigh._

The book was an uncomfortable lump under the pillow, mocking me. My leg hurt. Wasn’t that enough proof? 

No...it wasn’t. Not anymore. 

Apprehension mounting, I dug under the pillow, licked dry lips, and stared at the cover. 

_Stop being a baby and look._

So I looked. 

And I was still fucked. 

It was both a relief and an irritation. 

I tossed the book onto the nightstand and swung my legs onto the floor, crying out at the movement. 

_Ohfuckingfuckfuck._

Sharp and vague pain at the same time. stinging and aching and throbbing and pick a Goddamn simile to make this image crystal clear. 

It fucking _hurt._

Dragging a hand down my face (acting like Dean somehow made me feel better), I pushed myself to my feet, balancing on one leg. I teetered a moment before hopping to the door, almost laughing at the ridiculousness of it all and crying at the jolts of pain that accompanied each of those hops. 

Shouldn’t I call someone for help? 

_Who would come?_

One impatient wipe took care of the fresh batch of tears (of course there’s more in there to fall). I took hold of the knob and opened the door. The light from the hallway was momentarily blinding, compared to the darkness of my… _her_...room. It took a second to adjust. 

By the time I had everything in focus, the yawning chasm between myself and the bathroom brought a fresh wave of tears and maybe a growl of frustration. I leaned against the wall, and hop-limp-cried my way there, shuddering breaths and a threat of passing out foremost on my mind as I shut the door behind me. 

I took care of the bathroom details, pointedly avoiding how I was going to get back to my… _Godammit… **the**_ room without losing consciousness. Steadying myself, I opened the door and almost yelped when Dean stood on the other side. I actually flinched, forgetting my note, forgetting he wasn’t hostile, forgetting everything I knew because what did I know, really? 

His lips parted and he sucked in a breath at my obvious fear. 

Great. Now I hurt his feelings. 

Stammering, I tried to make it better. “Sorry, you, uh, startled me.” I leaned heavily against the doorframe, acutely aware that I was losing the battle to pain, and the last thing I wanted was to face plant in front of him. 

Would he let me fall? 

Probably not, because then his Kate would be hurt more. 

_Not my Dean._

I stared at the floor, taking shallow breaths and mentally following the beads of sweat that were forming on my face. 

“C’mon...let’s...get you back in bed.” 

My eyes swiveled up to his. 

_Not my Kate...but you need me. So…_

I blinked slowly and nodded, too warped to argue. Once again, he swept me in his arms and carried me to the room. He gently lowered me to the bed, cinching his jaw to the side as I scrubbed my hands over my face. 

“Thanks.” 

He nodded and picked up a bottle of pills that weren’t there earlier, turning them over in his hands, making them rattle. “I, uh, brought you these, and I thought I’d...you know...“ He waved a hand at my leg. 

I nodded. “It’s okay. Thanks for the pills. You don’t have to…” His jawline set. “Right,” I let out a sharp laugh. “Sorry...you...yeah. She shouldn’t come back to this. I’m sorry.” 

Two heartbeats later, he opened the bottle and tipped out some pills, which I greedily took and swallowed dry even though he was about to hand over a bottle of water. He raised his eyebrows. 

“Sorry,” I whispered again, pinching the bridge of my nose. 

“You need to stop apologizing. It’s not like you did this on purpose.” The bed dipped, and gentle fingers prodded my ankle and knee. I bit my lip to keep from crying out. “Christ, these are swollen. I’ll get you some ice, okay?” 

Not trusting my voice, I nodded, shoving my fist against my mouth _hard_ to keep from crying. 

I stared at the sheets. He stared at me. We sat like that for a bit, then he sighed and stood. 

“I’ll go get that ice.” 

I just nodded again, not making eye contact. 

He left the door open, I kept my fist by my mouth, and maybe I bit it a little in an effort to keep in control. 

Footsteps echoed down the stairs. I heard the ice machine. Footsteps sounded up the stairs. 

There was a knock at the door. 

I looked up, and there stood Mary, hesitant and worried, carrying a couple bags of ice. “Hey there...may I come in?” 

Sure - it’s not _my_ room. “Of course…” I shimmied awkwardly to make some room for her to sit, assuming she’d sit. 

Dad would sit. 

I sniffled and grinned despite the tears. “Sorry I damaged her.” This was probably one of the stupidest things I could’ve said, but I honestly didn’t know what else to say. This was Mary Winchester - goddess of my family - standing next to me cradling two bags of ice. 

The woman I almost traded my soul for when I was twelve (That’s a whole other story.). 

The woman Dad still mourned and Dean still missed. 

The woman who died when Sam was six months old, two years before I was born. 

And now I’ve met her twice. 

She tentatively sat facing me, not saying a word. Tenderly, she examined the joints and strategically placed the ice. “It’s not your fault,” she began. 

I huffed a laugh. “That’s what Dean said. I know it isn’t. Doesn’t mean I’m not sorry.” I kept my eyes on the sheets, afraid to look at her. 

Clearing her throat, she rose and walked to the other side of the bed, and sat down next to me, legs outstretched, a foot of emptiness between us. 

The former matriarch meets the current. 

How surreal. 

“So tell me what’s going on.” 

I hesitated all of a second before spilling my guts, telling her about Uriel, the spell, the shifts, all of it. When I finished, I risked a peek at her. The light from the hallway lit up the left side of her face, which was lost in thought as she processed everything. 

“And you said this reality is close to yours?” 

“From what I can see, it’s identical, except for…” 

“Me, right?” 

I nodded. 

She nodded thoughtfully back. “So...in your world...?” 

And here we go. “You...died when Sam was a baby. Azazel set his nursery on fire, killing you in the process.” 

Mary angled her head and lifted the corner of her mouth into a rueful smile. “Here, that’s how John died.” She must have known the next question on my mind, because she hastily added, “Sperm donor. Your mom, Sarah, pulled his number a couple years later.” 

Ahhh...the old jack-off in a cup trick. That’s how we got Adam. “Makes sense,” was all I said. 

“What’s he like?” She whispered, staring at the sheets. 

Sighing, I wrapped my arms around myself when the ache of missing him hit once again. “Formidable.” She laughed, and I marveled in how she sounded like Sam. “No, really. He’s...amazing. Hunters admire him, monsters are scared of him, he loves like Dean and is loyal like Sam and...and he misses you like you would not believe.” 

Her breath caught, and her hand flew to her mouth as a small sob escaped her lips. 

“Maybe...maybe this isn’t what you really want to hear, but revenge over your death has driven him for over twenty years. His love for you hasn’t diminished in the slightest, but now...at least when last I saw him...I think he’s finally starting to heal.” 

Tears slid down both our cheeks. Silently, I handed over a Kleenex, and she laugh-sobbed a thanks while we dabbed at our eyes and blew our noses in the dark. 

“And the boys?” 

That question hit like a punch in the stomach. I answered honestly. “They are so much like yours, it’s painful. I am...so close...to them, and…” I trailed off, not knowing where to go from there. I was explaining a bizarre sibling relationship to the dead mom of my brothers. 

Mary’s hand slid across the bed to hold mine. That small contact was like a life preserver, and I clung tightly to it. “My Kate is close to her boys, too.” 

I nodded slowly, already knowing that. 

Needing to do something to ease her mind, I said, “I don’t know if this is helpful or not, but...the Castiel I know told me that all the Kates I temporarily replace are in my world, sleeping it off. I have no idea what happens once I leave, but, um, I guess you’ll know when she’s back because she won’t know what the hell happened to her leg.” We both chuckled. 

I thought about the Kate that Dean shot. 

Well, she’s probably dead, right? Because I got her killed? 

Yeah, can’t go there right now. 

“It’ll be okay. We’ll figure something out while you’re here. Bobby’s already researching, and Castiel left to question some angels about the spell.” 

I thunked my head against the wall and huffed a laugh through my nose. “It doesn’t matter, Mary. Who knows how long I’ll be here? All that matters is...your Kate will be back eventually.” 

Heartbeat. “And you?” 

Heartbeat. Shrug. “I’ll be somewhere else.” 

She squeezed my hand and we sat together in the dark until the pills took over and I fell back asleep. 

**xxxxx**

Daylight streamed through the bedroom window, illuminating tiny dust flecks floating aimlessly around the room. My leg still throbbed, but while I slept, someone re-wrapped my knee and ankle in heavier bandages, holding now melted ice packs and swollen joints in place. 

Not trusting anything, I blindly groped for the book. 

Since I was still fucked, I threw it across the room, disappointed when it landed softly. 

“Don’t take it out on literature. That’s just wrong.” 

Twisting my head to look at the doorway, I flashed a brief smile at Sam, who was already walking over to where the book was teetering on a pile of laundry. Naturally, it landed on my page. He read it, then looked at me questioningly. 

“Yeeeeah, that’s how I can tell I’m still here and not somewhere else. ‘Cuz....yeah.” I ground my teeth together and forced another smile, which he saw right through. 

“Huh,” was all he said as he placed it back on my night stand, proceeding to stand there in awkward silence. 

Feeling stupid, I sat up and started unwrapping the bags of warm water sloshing on my leg. Sam huffed and batted my hands away. “I’ll get it,” he murmured, sitting down and gently setting the former ice packs free. 

I sat very still, watching him work, still not accustomed to the ache in my chest at having him here but not here. 

“Breathe,” he ordered, pausing in his work. “I won’t hurt you.” 

Not realizing I was holding my breath, I let it out and ran a hand through my hair. “I know you won’t.” 

His eyes flickered to mine, then back on the bandages. “I won’t lie...this is weird.” I nodded. “But...no one’s angry or upset at you. We’re worried for our Kate. That’s all.” 

I nodded again, understanding. 

Still felt incredibly alone. 

But what was I expecting, really? When it’s me encountering various Sams and Deans, it’s easy ( _haaaa_ …) to blend in and love them (mostly) wherever I go. I couldn’t expect the same in return unless I’m faking it. They don’t know who the fuck I am. They’re taking my word at face value when I say they’re doppelgangers of my family. 

_Not my Kate_ rang louder than _Not my Dean or Sam._

“Breathe, Kate…” 

_Godammit._

I pursed my lips and huffed a shaky laugh, shaking my head a little. “Sorry…” 

__My head got cuffed, startling me. I looked up and got a faceful of Bitchy Sam. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, so stop apologizing.”_ _

I made my best _Oh, Really?_ look, and cheekily replied, “Sorry?” Laughing when he rolled his eyes, and then letting it die gracefully with a sigh. Yeah, not really funny. 

I needed help back to the bathroom, but felt so weird asking. My Sam would’ve just known - 

“C’mon. Let’s get you to the bathroom.” 

_Sigh_. “Yeah, okay.” 

He froze, hand out. “What’s wrong? Don’t need to go?” 

I quickly shook my head. “Nonono...I do. It’s...nothing.” I bit my lip to keep from apologizing again. “I just need to get my shit together. That’s all. I’m not adjusting to well to being here, and...I fucked up your sister’s leg in the process.” 

Sam kept his eyes on mine, making me squirm a little. “What?” I asked, a teeny bit snappish. 

His brow furrowed, as he searched for the right words. “Yesterday. On the couch…” 

Shit. I knew where this was going. 

“You knew me. And...I knew you. We...did that...thing…” He gestured between us. I nodded again. We never talked about the unspoken communications we all shared. It was just what we did, and it drew us together like a well tied knot. His forehead wrinkled even more. “I never would’ve thought you weren’t her. No one else but Dean can do that.” 

“Surprised me, too,” I admitted. I left out how much it hurt, knowing what I knew. 

His features smoothed, and his Eyes went all doe-y. “That must’ve hurt like hell, knowing what you know.” 

Aaaaaand, tears! 

“Oh, shit...Kate, I - “ 

I waved a hand dismissively. _Everything’s fine - nothing to see here._ “It’s okay, Sam. Really. Um...bathroom? Please?” 

His face fell. “Yeah...c’mon.” 

When I finished, he was waiting for me, propped against the wall, still sporting The Eyes. “Hey...Mom’s got breakfast ready.” Not Dad, not Dad. “Why don’t you get changed and I’ll help you downstairs? You slept all of yesterday, so you gotta be hungry, right?” 

Taken aback, I wasn’t sure what to do with the invitation. I thought hiding in the room indefinitely was an excellent plan, ensuring the least amount of heartache and embarrassment. 

“You can’t stay up here indefinitely, right?” Ohhhh, he said it like that’s a stupid idea. 

Cue the nervous laughter. “Right. That’d be dumb.” 

His eyes widened. “Seriously?” 

Once again, I leaned against the door, feeling like all my brother conversations would be held in this doorway. “Seriously what, Sam? I’m coming unglued at the seams, here, and I don’t think everyone needs to witness that freakshow.” I took a deep breath. “Again.” He winced. “Besides,” I softened my tone. “I think I hurt her enough, don’t you?” Awww...three cheers for self flagellation! 

Sam straightened, and I saw the lecture coming like a tsunami. I held up a hand, and pushed off of the door. “I know, I know. That was stupid. Cram the lecture and put away The Eyes. I’ll...come downstairs.” 

He just stared at me. 

“Can’t walk, though, remember?” I added, pointing to my leg with a flourish. 

One huff through his nose and he was at my side, helping me back to the room. 

_That’s better_ , I thought-snickered at him. 

Since his hands were busy holding me up, he thunked his head against mine. 

_Fucker…_

We got back to the room, and he left me on the bed while he rooted around the dresser for some clothes. He yanked some out of a drawer and held them out. “Think you can manage, or…?” 

I gave him my serious look. “No. I think you need to help me change my bra.” His face paled. “Jesus, Sam, I can get dressed by myself. Just...gimme a minute.” 

I curled my fingers at him, wordlessly asking for the clothes. He tossed them at my head and left with a smirk. 

As soon as the door shut, I sagged, amazed at how effortlessly I slid into being his sister, shocked at how smoothly he responded, and sick at how normal it all felt. 

]Through the door, I heard a loud sigh, telling me he felt the same way. 

I quickly dressed and let him help me downstairs. They were all in the kitchen, drinking coffee and talking in low voices. 

Bobby was at the stove, flipping pancakes, while Mary whisked what I assumed were eggs in a bowl. I remembered Ellen whisking eggs. Good times. 

Sam lifted me and carried my ass to the table. He set me down and pulled another chair with a pillow on the seat close by. With a perfectly straight face, he asked, “You need me to lift your leg?” 

Just as serious, I answered, “You need your hair cut?” 

He thought about that, right before pulling my hair. We grinned at each other, easing my heart and loosening the heaviness that had settled in my gut. 

Mary set the whisk in the sink and tugged on Dean’s sleeve, partly because she needed him, and partly because he wouldn’t stop staring at me. “Dean - finish up these eggs, would you? I want to check Kate’s ankle.” 

Grudgingly, he nodded, moving to stand next to Bobby, who snaked an arm around Dean’s shoulders, giving him a squeeze that really could’ve undone me right then and there. 

I flashed a smile at Mary, who pulled up another chair and sat down to look over the joints. “Still looks awful. I’ll get you more ice and pills.” 

“Um...maybe not the special ones, this time? Regular stuff is good...if...that’s okay.” 

Mary nodded, and brushed some hair off my face. “Sure thing, baby.” I raised an eyebrow, she tossed me a half smile. “You’re John’s daughter. Either way, you’re John’s daughter. That makes you mine as well. That’s all there is to it.” 

I sighed through my nose, proud that I wasn’t crying. 

“Just promise me that whenever you end up home, you’ll...you’ll take care of him.” 

_Yet_ \- I wasn’t crying _yet_ … 

“And tell him I love him.” 

She wasn’t helping my resolve to make it through the day without bawling like a baby. I pressed my lips together and made a tiny “Mmm-hmm” noise, nodding my head like a bobble-doll and digging my nails into my thigh. 

There was a clang at the sink, and Dean was there, eyes rolling, tugging on Mary’s sleeve. “Jesus Christ, Mom. Give her a break, would ya?” 

Mary stood, huffing and wiping her eyes. “What? I was just - “ 

“Yeah, yeah, _you were just_. Go scramble some eggs, woman.” He shoved her towards the stove, sharing a look with Sam that screamed _Good Grief_. Bobby snickered and gave Mary a kiss on the cheek, laughing outright at her continued huffing. 

Sam winked at me, and left to go...I dunno where, he just left. Dean sat in Mary’s chair, pulling at his chin, and nodding at my knee. “How is it?” 

I studied him, running through options of how to respond. Sam and I were okay. Dean was always a different story. 

Dean smacked his lips and gave me his patented big brother look. “Don’t fucking lie to me, either. I’ll…” He took a breath, and bored his eyes into mine. “I’ll know. I don’t know how that’s possible, but I’ll know. So just...tell me.” He leaned forward, elbows on knees, and waited. 

_Not my Dean_...but it was really hard to tell the difference. 

“Can’t really put weight on it. It’s…” I swallowed and shifted in my chair. “It hurts. A lot.” I left it at that, knowing that descriptive language wasn’t necessary, here. 

Dean grimaced and nodded. “That’s what I figured.” He hesitated a second, then reached out and cupped my cheek, running his thumb over it. 

Breathing became difficult. “Hey...what happened to giving me a break, huh?” The jibe ended in a squeaky plea, prompting Dean to flick my ear. 

He waggled his eyebrows, and stood up. “I’ll get those pills.” He ruffled my hair and went to the cabinet. 

Despite my wanting to go home, I knew leaving here was going go be a bitch. 

**xxxxx**

After breakfast, we gathered in the living room, like...always. Bobby at his desk, Mary reading over his shoulder, Sam in that creaky armchair, and Dean on the couch with me. 

Absolutely. Just like...always. 

Castiel showed up, reporting that the angels were no help (oooh, big surprise) in figuring out the spell Uriel used. He kept shooting me weird looks, like he just couldn’t believe I was there. 

Join the club. 

He stayed a while to help search Bobby’s library, commenting on various spells and their histories until Dean beaned him with a pillow to make him stop. The pills took the edge off the pain and I actually relaxed. Cas shuffled over and crouched in front of me. “I was so...caught off guard when you first appeared. I should have offered to heal you.” 

Well, shit. That didn’t occur to me either. 

As he reached out with his hand, I heard a familiar rustling sound and felt that downy caress on my cheek. I sat up, my book sliding to the floor with a thud. “Cas?” I asked, scanning the room. 

“Yes?” Came...two replies...from two Castiel’s... 

“Whoa!” Dean yelped, leaping to his feet. 

Bobby had his shotgun out so fast that even Mary blinked at him in surprise. I held up my hands. “No! Wait! That’s - that’s my Cas!” 

“Your Cas?” Dean sputtered. 

Sam held up his hands. “Hold on - time out. How did he get here?” 

My Cas took a few steps toward me, a frown on his lips broadcasting concern over my elevated leg and ice packs. Even though he didn’t make eye contact with Sam, both he and their Cas answered in unison. “Angels can bend time and space when necessary to travel through realities.” 

Cas stopped moving and raised his eyebrows at their Castiel, who mimicked the same expression as he slowly stood. “Interesting,” their Cas murmured. 

My Cas frowned even more. “Indeed.” He turned to me. “I see what you mean about the coat.” 

I gestured wide with my hands. _There you go._

“Cas?” Bobby demanded, gun still raised. 

Their Cas sighed. “It’s okay, Bobby. He’s...safe.” His head tilted. “He is her me. From Kate’s reality. How fascinating.” 

“Agreed.” My Cas nodded, and continued to my side, taking in everyone’s expressions. His gaze paused at Mary and he breathed a barely audible, “Ahhh…” Cas turned to me. _The original matriarch, I presume?_

I glanced at Mary and smiled. _Yeah...she’s...she’s really nice._

He did that head tilt thing and his eyes got all soulful, I suppose his version of Sam’s Eyes. _I would only assume so. How did you get hurt?_

Why the hell was his tone accusing? It’s not like I did this on purpose. _Short story is that I fell, like an idiot, when I realized I wasn’t...home. This place is so much like ours. It actually fooled me, until...until I saw her. Anyway. Your twin was about to heal me._

His hand was under my chin, angling my face towards his. _I believe you’ve been here a day already. Why hasn’t he healed you before now?_

“Um...hello? What’re you two doing?” Mary stepped from behind Bobby’s desk, hands on hips and looking like...like a mother protecting her child. 

Wow. 

Their Cas was watching us closely, his eyes thoughtful. “They are communicating.” 

“Communicating?” Sam asked, eyes wide and curious. 

Oooh, now I felt like more of a freakshow. Cas dropped his hand (but not before he gave me a gentle squeeze). 

Their Cas turned to my Cas (that was getting cumbersome). “I wondered what I sensed in her when she arrived. The Kate from here did not retain any grace when I healed her wound from the amulet. But - “ 

Stunned by that statement, I stupidly tried to enter the conversation. Physically. “Whoa there, what the hell are you talking about _owwww….Goddammit…_ ” I clenched my eyes shut. “Would one of you just fix this?” 

“Oh my God, why didn’t we think of that?” Mary muttered. 

My Cas’s fingers pressed against my thigh. The energy rush this time was cool and pleasant, shooting straight to my knee and ankle, and just like when I was his (still can’t say its) vessel, I watched the repairs unfold. When the tingling died down to a few sparks, he removed his hand. 

I opened my eyes and tested it out, first resting my foot on the floor, then carefully standing, noting Dean’s hand automatically reaching out to support me, even though he was a few feet away. I breathed a sigh of relief. “ _Thank_ you.” I gave my Cas a look. _We can talk about the grace stuff later, I suppose._

He nodded grimly. 

The other Cas, however, “It’s getting stronger. How is that possible?” 

_Or now…_

Cas looked embarrassed, all of a sudden absorbed with a button on his coat. _We shouldn’t discuss it here._

“Does it matter?” I asked, glancing at Cas, who looked relieved that I understood. “It’s...it’s not a your Kate thing, right? So...she’s okay. Speaking of which, are they all still okay? Sleeping or whatever?” 

Cas straightened up. “Yes, they are still sleeping, as time continues to be - “ 

“In a stasis, allowing for the differentiation between her shifts and her reality.” Their Cas shook his head. “This is a powerful spell. Why would Uriel…” He looked from my Cas to me and back again. “Your grace. That’s what caused this.” 

My Cas sighed, and I took a step closer to him in a pathetic effort at comfort. “I am not sure if your Uriel is the same as ours, but ours - “ 

“He’s a dick,” I finished for him. 

Cas opened his mouth to protest how angels weren’t dicks, they had a greater good in mind, God’s Will, yadda yadda yadda. Instead he shrugged. “Yes, he is a dick.” 

Dean snorted. 

“There is discontent among our brothers, and it is getting...complicated.” Cas looked around, and I sensed a touch of nervousness in him. 

The other Cas nodded. “These aren’t matters that can be altered or affected from here, so I understand your...hesitation...to discuss them further.” 

“Cas,” Mary began. Both angels turned, and she huffed in frustration. “Not you… _you_.” She pointed at my Cas. “You can’t just...zap her home? Make the Kates swap and…” She gestured around with her hands, like this was a game of charades. 

Cas sighed. “No, Mary, I cannot. The spell must run its course, and I cannot determine how long that will be. Removing Kate’s consciousness from the bodies she inhabits is not...wise.” 

The other Cas nodded. “I agree. The potential danger to our Kate, and any other Kate, is incalculable.” 

“And totally not worth the risk,” Dean chimed in. He pointedly looked at me. “For either of them.” 

I lifted the corner of my mouth in a small smile, which he returned. 

__My Cas took hold of my elbow. “May I...speak with her in private for a moment?”_ _

“Of course, Cas…” Mary answered, polite, but the curiosity was there. 

We walked into the kitchen, and stood by the back door, as far away from them as possible. 

A horrible thought crossed my mind. If he tells me they’re all possessed, I’m gonna - 

“No, Kate, they are not possessed.” 

I breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back against a counter. “Okay, then what’s up?” 

__Cas flicked his tongue over his lips and took a deep breath. “I wanted to first make sure you were truly okay. I sensed...a great deal of turmoil, and I was a little reckless just showing up in front of everyone, but…”_ _

“I’m fine, Cas. Really. Had my mid-spell crisis and I’m ready to get back in there and make it awesome.” I ended lamely, with a shrug. 

Frowning like he didn’t quite believe me (really?), he scuffed his foot on the floor. 

“What?” I prodded him with my foot (which now moved pain-free!). 

He chewed on his lip, “I, um, also wanted to, um, assure you that I, _personally_ , that is, _me_...I identify with, I mean if I had to choose - " 

Holy shit - he’s blushing! “Spit it out, Cas.” 

“I’m male.” 

I blinked at him. 

“I mean, I suppose that technically, I am not _really_ male because gender is dependent on many factors when one is celestial, however, despite my vessel being male, I have always preferred that gender.” His eyes widened. “I don’t mean preferred as in _a preference for in others,_ although truly that is not an issue of concern in Heaven, I simply meant - “ 

I grabbed the back of his head, and pulled Cas to me, kissing him full on the lips. My mouth still on his, I murmured, “I get the picture. It’s okay.” 

We parted slowly, and I noticed, smugly, that he was _really_ blushing now. 

“Yes. Well. I… _yes_. Good. Everything’s okay then. Excellent.” 

Aaaaand we stood there. 

Why not make it more awkward? “So. What about the grace thing?” 

“Ah, yes. I wasn’t sure if that was the case, but this Castiel confirmed it.” 

I toyed with the edge of his coat. “So...is that bad? I mean, I don’t know what grace really is, or what it does, or…” 

“It’s not a bad thing, exactly. But I believe that to Uriel and some of the other angels, it is a _very_ bad thing.” 

I didn’t know what to say. Of course I noticed _some_ thing was going on. That tingling sensation, the early detecting, the actual Instant Messaging via Thought ability that went _way_ beyond what I had with my brothers. I mean, those words we imagined the other saying, it was just that - imagined. We know our _intentions_ , and we make up the rest. 

This was...something else entirely. 

And I had to admit...I liked it. 

“I’m still trying to sort through it all. It’s...very new to me, and it definitely isn’t something that happened on purpose. I...didn’t want to say anything until I was sure. But now…” He glanced over his shoulder at the other room and shrugged. 

“It’s okay, Cas, really.” How many times have I said that to people? “As long as it isn’t gonna make this whole spell thing worse, or - “ 

“Nono, I don’t believe it will. Well. As far as the mechanics of the spell itself? No. Other angels detecting you? I don’t know. This Castiel did more probing than most would, given the circumstances. I - I cannot be sure, Kate. I’m sorry.” 

Shrugging, I let go of his coat. “No big deal. It’ll just make it more interesting.” I stared out the back window. “At least now I know that wherever I end up, you’re with me, even if it’s through your grace.” I glanced at him. “Which you will explain when I get back. Deal?” 

“Deal.” He smiled for a very short second before his eyes drifted off and he appeared to be listening to things I couldn’t hear. “Kate, I need to - “ 

“Go, yeah, I know you do.” I sighed. “I wish you could just…” 

His hand was back on my cheek. “I know. I do, too.” He hesitated, did the equivalent of a mental shrug, then kissed me again, soft and sweet. “I’ll find you again as soon as I can.” 

**xxxxx**

The rest of the day passed quickly, and bizarrely. Even though we were all acutely aware that I wasn’t their Kate, I was so similar, that we all behaved as if I were. And I suppose on my end, I behaved as if they were mine. 

With that one glaring exception. 

The arrival of my Castiel ended the need for research on the spell. Both angels were fairly adamant that this thing had to run its course, so all that was left was for me to temporarily latch on to those that gave me sanity. 

Late in the day, I went onto Bobby’s porch with a beer, and tried to soak up the _This Is Home_ aura that leaked from almost every inch of this reality. I had this sinking feeling that my time here was going to end sooner than I wanted, and while normally leaving wasn’t a bad thing, I also knew with absolute certainty that the next shift would not be home. 

And that I wouldn’t be home for a while. A really, really long while. 

__I was starting to accept that, and it actually...helped._ _

I sat on the porch swing, and imagined Adam sitting next to me and Dean swatting Sam on the head, while Dad and Bobby argued over the authenticity of some zombie video game. It fit - that image and this place, making me smile. 

The door opened, and Sam came outside, spotting me on the swing. “Hey...you okay?” 

If I had a salt round every time someone asked me that… 

“Yeah, just...thinking.” I started peeling the label off my bottle to keep my focus off him and the uneasy feeling in my chest. 

The door squeaked shut, and I thought he went inside, until the swing jostled as he sat next to me. He leaned back, arm wide across the back of the swing, legs stretched and crossed at the ankles. 

“Our Kate likes it out here, too. Said it helps provide clarity when there’s too much to process.” He initiated a slow rocking movement that the chains gently protested. 

“Mmm…” I hummed back, agreeing with her, but not needing to say so. He already knew. 

“So…” 

“Soon, I think,” I interrupted, knowing what he was going to ask. The swing stopped moving. Leaning back, I rubbed at my eyes, letting the half-peeled label flap gently in the breeze. “No reason to really think so, I just…” Shrug. “Think so.” 

He nodded, and the swinging continued. 

There wasn’t anything to say. And while the silence was nice and comforting, it was also deafening and empty. 

But there wasn’t _anything_ to say. 

Every shift was unexpected, occurring in moments when I was so preoccupied in what was happening _right then_ , that I never had the opportunity to...well...wait for it. Now I’m waiting for it. I’m dreading it. I’m scared of it. 

But they want their Kate back. 

So I have to leave. There’s no other way. 

Maybe concentrating on the “it’ll be better for them” aspect would help. Maybe if I remember how my leaving makes their family whole again, it’ll be easier. 

Maybe I shouldn’t have come downstairs for pancakes. 

I pulled my knees to my chest and fought against the butterflies in my stomach. Sam took the bottle from my hands, and held me tight. 

I stayed there until I left. 

**xxxxx**

I didn’t want to open my eyes. I was drowning in sorrow and grief and pain and anything else I could throw into this emotional salad. What was waiting for me here? Another practically identical universe? I was pretty sure my heart couldn’t take it. If it was, I was done. I just knew - I was done. 

Something flicked my ear, and I swatted it away. 

It flicked again, harder, and I opened my eyes with a low growl, finding myself face to face with amused green eyes and a freckle-frosted nose. 

_Dean_. 

But...not...Dean... 

“About time you woke up, Squirt. Dad wants us running in ten. You get to wake Sam. I’m not dealing with the premenstrual bitchiness today." 

_Dean_ yawned and sat up, long brown hair cascading down her back. She glanced at me, and nodded at something, in bed behind me. “I’m serious - she won’t listen to me, she sure as fuck won’t listen to Dad, and I’m fucking tired of tiptoeing around her moods. So today, she’s yours, alright?” 

My mouth opened, but I just nodded, utterly afraid to say a single thing, let alone look behind me. 

“Awesome sauce. Hurry up so you can help me braid my hair. 

**XXXxxxXXX TBC XXXxxxXXX**


	9. Chapter 9

_**Previously, in Quantum AU…** _

I didn't want to open my eyes. I was drowning in sorrow and grief and pain and anything else I could throw into this emotional salad. What was waiting for me here? Another practically identical universe? I was pretty sure my heart couldn't take it. If it was, I was done. I just knew - I was done.

Something flicked my ear, and I swatted it away.

It flicked again, harder, and I opened my eyes with a low growl, finding myself face to face with amused green eyes and a freckle-frosted nose.

_Dean_.

But...not...Dean...

"About time you woke up, Squirt. Dad wants us running in ten. You get to wake Sam. I'm not dealing with the premenstrual bitchiness today."

_Dean_  yawned and sat up, long brown hair cascading down her back. She glanced at me, and nodded at something, in bed behind me. "I'm serious - she won't listen to me, she sure as fuck won't listen to Dad, and I'm fucking tired of tiptoeing around her moods. So today, she's yours, alright?"

My mouth opened, but I just nodded, utterly afraid to say a single thing, let alone look behind me.

"Awesome sauce. Hurry up so you can help me braid my hair."

**XXXXX**

_**Now…** _

Dean left our room to go to the bathroom, leaving me gaping after...her.

_Her?!_

Holy shit.

I mean... _holy fucking what the fucking hell shit_.

There was mumbling behind me, and some lip smacking, followed by a knee in my ass. I closed my eyes, thinking that perhaps if I clench them (my eyes, not my ass) together hard enough, when I turn to look, Sam will be Sam.

I turned around.

He's a she. He's Samantha.  _For real_.

I couldn't help it. I laughed. I laughed, chortled, giggled, guffawed, everything. All of it. And not in the white-coated men sort of way.

This was just simply...fucking... _hilarious_.

And I needed something straight-up hilarious.

What would be the angst for this 'verse? Sam has cramps? Dean's having a bad hair day? Dad... _okay_ , Dean said Dad, so Dad's not really a mom, unless he's a...yeah, that's probably too complicated.

I settled down, wiping my eyes on the blanket, and took a few deep breaths to help me keep it together. Clearing my throat loudly, I nudged Sam, smirking when she rolled over and sent me a pissy look.

"Rise and shine. Dad wants us running in a matter of minutes."

_Whoa_ \- on a girl, the bitchface is  _amaaaaaazingly_  more bitchy. "C'mon, Sam. Let's get it over with, okay?"

She blinked at me, and the bitchface melted off and turned compliant.  _Mental Note:_   _I have to teach my Sam to do that._  "Katie...can you...can you get me out of it?  _Please?_ "

I raised an eyebrow at her. "Really? You think Dad will let you out if I just ask?"

Sam sighed and hid under her pillow. "Maybe if you ask the right  _wayyyyy…_ " Her voice was muffled, and the tone overly optimistic.

I shook my head, even though she couldn't see me. "No can do. C'mon...get up."

She growled into the pillow, pushing it hard against her face. I wrestled it away, holding it above my head and out of her reach. After pounding the mattress twice, she rolled out of bed and stomped to the dresser.

I watched her move, amazed at the similarities between Sam and...Sam, only this Sam had short, tawny colored hair. I didn't know what kind of cut it was, and I was sure there's a name for it, but simply put, it was...cute on her. Him.  _Her_.

_Ahhhh_...this was good.

She shot a glare over her shoulders. "You better get up too, then. I bet Dee wants her hair braided so it doesn't get in her precious face."

Holy cow.

The snarkiness was just so...

_Mental Note:_   _Do NOT teach my Sam this._

I climbed out of bed and realized that I had no idea where my clothes were. "Hey, Sam, would you toss me some clothes?"

Glare.

" _Pleeeeease?_ "

One huffy sigh and eye roll later, I had shorts and a T-shirt sailing through the air towards my head. "It's  _Sami_ , not Sam." I almost lost it and cracked up again. "I dunno which bra you want, so you come pick that out." She gestured grandly at a drawer as I walked over.

We both dressed quickly, knowing that we didn't have much time left. Sam, I mean,  _Sami_ , didn't say a word the whole time, preferring to huff and mutter under her breath. I didn't say anything, either, instead marvelling at how my brothers were now my sisters.

Dee came back in the room, flashing me a quick  _thank you_  smile when she saw Sami tying her shoes. "Bathroom's open, and there's juice on the table. Once Katie braids my hair, we can go."

Sami made these mimicking sounds and a nasty face before stomping out of the room.

Dee turned to me, pulled on her hair and silently screamed. "I told you - she's being such a bitch!"

I sighed. "I know...but  _why_ is she being a bitch?"

Dee grabbed a brush off the dresser. "I don't give a fuck why. She just needs to quit, or Dad'll make her run more. You know how that goes. I don't understand why the hell she doesn't get that. I mean, if he hasn't changed his  _Do As I Say Now_  policy by now, he isn't going to. Know what I mean?" She handed off the brush and sat expectantly on the bed.

I stared at it, thanking the universe that I watched those YouTube videos on hair braiding a month ago.

Hey - I acknowledge that I'm female, even though I don't always act like it.

I motioned for her to turn around, and began brushing her hair. "Yeah, but why can't Dad understand that Sam's needs aren't always going to match his?"

She sighed. "I dunno, Kate. It's not like he confides in me, you know? He's obsessed about finding the Demon. He  _needs_ to fight the evil of this world, and a trigonometry test isn't going to trump that. He'll give us his little lecture on how people's lives are at stake, and then there we'll be, sending a spirit back to wherever the fuck they go. We go home, or at least the home  _du jour_ , smelling like smoke and charred human, and go the whole thing starts over again. Now why in the world wouldn't Sami want that?" She sighed again. "I wish she'd understand that I'm trying to keep her out of trouble. Instead she fights me on every step. That's why I need you to help - you're not giving her orders like I have to, so she listens to you. Doesn't matter that you're younger. Are you gonna braid my hair or just stare at it?"

I was standing there, with my mouth hanging open trying to process the onslaught of everything verbal that this Dean was throwing at me. I don't think my Dean's said this much in a week, let alone one minute. "Oh, right. Sorry!" I frowned as I clumsily did the whole over-under pattern with sections of her hair, tying the end with the ponytail loop. I critically examined my handiwork and realized that this Dean made a better girl than me.

When I asked her that question about Sam, it was sort of rhetorical. I usually hold those conversations in my head with myself or with my imaginary Dean Winchester. You know - the one who actually engages in discourse. Yes...the one that doesn't exist.

Unless he's a chick.

Then he apparently doesn't shut up.

"Anyway. No use worrying about it now. We need to get these miles in, and be ready for when Dad wants to gank the spirit." She stood and stretched, showing off her body. I looked down, and noted that I was still the physically unimpressive sibling.

Good to know that some things don't change.

**xxxxx**

Dad was gone by the time we left. Dee said he was gathering information on the hunt, and would call later. I was hoping to see him, since he wasn't alive in the last shift.

The run wasn't bad. In fact, it was a welcome activity since I've been mostly cowering, freaking out, angsting or almost giving birth. My head cleared, my heart eased, and I came to this nice Zen place emotionally, where I accepted this whole curse and was ready to tackle it all head-on.

Again.

What a laugh.

Sami stayed in front, as if trying to get home faster than any of us so she could return to...whatever. Her back was rigid, and she never turned around to make sure we were following her. I think it's partly because she didn't have to.

Dee, running at my side, managed to chatter even while running, I know there are some running expert people who say that joggers should be able to hold a conversation while jogging. Those expert people never had John Winchester making them run. Knowing that training was controlled by Dad, and she was still able to talk through it...well. I was impressed.

And exhausted from trying to keep up with everything Dee was saying. She had comments on music, fashion, Dad, hunting, Caleb ( _really?_  A crush on  _Caleb?_ ) and anything else that popped into her head.

Back at the apartment, we gulped down water and caught our breath in the kitchen. Mid swallow, Dee's phone rang, startling her and making her spit all over herself. I tried not to laugh out loud. Sami didn't try so hard.

"Hello?...Oh, hey Dad. …  _Yes_...we ran." Eye roll. "Yes, we  _all_ ran." Sami's eye roll. "Wait... _what?_  But … Dad!  _*sigh*_  Yeah, okay. … Yeah, I know where it is. … Be careful, okay? … Love you, too."

"What'd he say?" Sami asked, as she placed her glass in the sink.

Dee toyed with the phone in her hand. "Well, looks like Dad's going on the hunt by himself, tonight."

"Seriously?!" Sami exclaimed, hope in her voice.

Dee tossed the phone on the table and undid her ponytail. "Yep. Said he has all the info he needs, and the spirit is an easy mark. We're on our own tonight." She kept her eyes on the table a second before looking up, a half smile on her lips. "So I'm thinking….shopping and slumber party?"

I remember the nights when Dad hunted solo, leaving Dean in charge of teenage Sam and me. They usually consisted of Sam happily studying, and Dean happily lounging. There were almost never activities where the three of us played together. By then, Sam was always balls deep in school, and Dean was balls deep in whatever girl caught his fancy. So it never occurred to me that Sam would exclaim, "Yes!" And then hug Dee, jumping up and down making squealing noises.

Holy fuck!

Dee grinned and winked at me. "Okay - get cleaned up. I'll check the bus schedule and our money situation."

Sami practically skipped out of the kitchen, leaving me blinking with my mouth open. Dee chuckled. "I guess I've still got it. Go on, Squirt. It's not often we get a day off."

**xxxxx**

As I stepped out of the shower, I heard Sami's voice - insistent and mad.  _Goddammit_  - I thought we were having a day off?

I walked into the living room, and saw Sami pointing at a map taped to the wall. She was holding papers, which flapped around as she waved her hands in the air.

"Look at that pattern, Dee! I'm telling you - something's not right."

"I hear you, Sami, but Dad checked it out!"

Sami thrust the papers in Dee's face. "Yeah, I know how he checks things out - as thoroughly as you do."

Dee crossed her arms and huffed back. "Oh? Well, if you weren't such a bitch about hunting all the fucking time, maybe your thoroughness would be useful."

Oh, shit.

"Hold it! What's going on?" I walked up to them, snatching the papers out of Sami's hands. They were hunting notes, all in Dad's handwriting.

Dee opened her mouth, but Sami cut her off. "I'll tell you what's going on. Instead of putting his notes in his journal and bringing them with him, he scrawled some shit on scrap paper and left it here. Furthermore,"  _Furthermore?_  "I think he's hunting the wrong thing. Look at the map. He plotted out the attack points, right? And it looks like the spirit is just randomly popping up within this area. But if you look again - "

"It's in a circle," I cut in. "Well, two circles, really." I traced the X's on the map, scanning the area, which was a forest preserve. I hate hunting in those.

" _Waitwaitwait_  - two circles?" Dee squinted at the map, her head tilted to the side.

Sami bitchfaced her. "So if  _she_  sees it, it's legit?"

"Not now, Sam," I chastised absently, still staring at the map. The pattern looked familiar, I just couldn't place it.

"Where would you have seen this? We've never had an attack pattern like this," Dee said sharply.

Apparently, I think out loud.

Glossing over my blunder, I stammered, "In a book somewhere. Look - that's not important. What  _is_  important, is that I think Sam's right. Regular spirits attacking people would attack where there's people - not in specific spots, and not in an open area like this." Frowning, I looked back at Dad's notes. Wailing noises, mostly night attacks, intense fear from nearby people, making them run away.

Then it came to me. "Yeth hound…it's not a spirit - Dad's hunting a yeth hound."

We hunted one back when I was about fourteen. Dad thought it was a regular spirit, too, until Sam found the weird attack pattern, and was able to put it together with Bobby's help.

"What the fuck is a yeth hound?" Dee's face was scrunched up, but I could see her moving towards a duffel bag in the corner.

"The lore places them back to Devonshire." Jesus, I sound like Sam. "They're often confused with the spirits of humans, because they are, in a way, spirits themselves, except that yeth hounds can fly, incite massive fear in victims, and they like to prowl in patterns, just like this one. If that's what this is, burning bones isn't going to cut it, because there aren't any bones to burn. We need iron rounds." I took a deep breath. "And they tend to hang out with night hags."

"Goddammit! I hate witches!" Dee exclaimed, slamming the bag onto the table and angrily unzipping it."

"Dee...we gotta do something. We can't...I mean…" Sami's face paled as fear topped her frustration with Dad's careless research.

"I know, Sam." Dee sighed and leaned against the table. "Slumber party's cancelled. We're going hunting."

**xxxxx**

Thankfully, Sami and Dee were too absorbed in rescue prepping to notice that I had no fucking clue where the weapons were, let alone which clothes were mine. Sami was tossing stuff at me in the bedroom, completely focused on getting the hell out of the apartment as fast as possible.

"And wear your heavy boots - we don't know what we're running into."

I nodded, taking the footwear from her and shoving my feet inside them. There wasn't much for me to say - we had to hurry, and this really wasn't the time to appear as if I didn't belong.

Once we were all ready to go, one small barrier stood in our way.

"Okay...we need to get a car, and this won't be easy." Dee peeked through the curtains, grimacing at the flock of children playing soccer next to the parking lot, while their parents looked on.

Sami and I joined her at the window, eyes scanning the area for a solution.

There wasn't one.

Dee sighed and let the curtain fall back into place. "Well, time to go for a little walk. I'm sure we'll find one on the next block."

We each hefted a bag and left the apartment. Sami had a folder with Dad's notes and the map tucked under one arm. It didn't take long to spot it - one of those crossover vehicles, parked around the corner from the park, under a couple trees. Everyone's stroll instantly became casual, as Dee surreptitiously pulled tools out of her bag.

Within a few minutes, we we speeding down the street, the map spread open on Sami's knees and Dee checking her hair in the rear view mirror. Sami clicked a pen against her chin. "Dad marked a few spots within the circular pattern...I'm wondering if those were possible grave sites, since he thinks he's burning bones."

I leaned against her seat, looking over her shoulder. "What if...and it's a big what if...we're dealing with two things? Dad can be sloppy with research, yeah, but he's not  _that_  sloppy. Maybe the evidence he found  _was_  for a regular spirit."

Dee glanced over. "So he stopped looking, thinking that he solved it."

I shrugged, sharing a thoughtful look with Sami. "Maybe?" She asked, staring out the window. "Hard to say. We won't really know until we get there. And if these hounds partner with hags, the sites may have something to do with them instead of a restless spirit."

Nodding, I slumped back in my seat and watched the scenery blur past. Funny how it took nine jumps for me to actually go on a hunt. I hope I'm here long enough to help Dad. Yeth's are nasty assholes - ours almost sliced through Dean before Dad was able to fire three rounds into its head.

Throughout the ride, Sami kept trying to reach Dad, and every time the call went to voicemail, she growled, slamming the phone shut.

Without saying a word, Dee reached over and took Sami's hand in hers. I waited for the snippy response coupled with Sami snatching her hand away. Instead, she gripped back, tossing Dee a shaky smile.

It took another twenty minutes to reach the preserve. There were ten different parking lots, all located around the edge of the park. There were three close to Dad's scribbling, so Dee drove as fast as she could (given the massively reduced speed limit on park grounds) to each of them, trying to find the Impala.

Naturally, it was at the third lot.

We were the only two cars there, so the chances of running into other people were slim. This made raiding the Impala's weapon trunk much easier. Funny how this Dad keeps his shit in the same places as my dad.

I slung a duffle strap around my neck so it hung across my body. Nodding at the map as I primed my gun, now loaded with iron rounds, I asked Sami, "Okay, which way?"

Mouth cinched to the side, Sami studied the map a second before looking up and around the lot. Finally she pointed to a small path, off to our left. "That way."

Dee hefted another bag on her shoulder, her mouth set and eyes hard. "Let's get Dad."

And off we went.

Even easy hunts need concentration and care, because one small slip could mean big trouble. This hunt was definitely not easy, and Dad's life was in the balance. Luckily it was daytime, and the hound's strength was greatly diminished. Those things hated sunlight, but if threatened, they'd attack, and a hunter tromping around their haunting grounds with salt and fire would definitely be motivation to brave the light.

I tried to imagine what we looked like. Three girls, loaded with weapons and ready to kill anything between them and their father. It sounded like a goofy movie - like Charlie's Angels or something. Maybe we could move in slow-motion for more effect.

The path was wide and clear, making walking very easy. My gun waited in my pocket, not in case we happened upon other hikers. No one spoke, instead listening to every sound in the forest, trying to pinpoint Dad's location.

Several minutes went by before we heard it - a soft scraping noise - like a shovel in dirt. We stopped and shared a look. Dee muttered, "Yahtzee…"

She led us off the path and toward the noise, which continued in a slow rhythm. Not wanting to scare a seasoned hunter armed to the hilt, Sami made a trilling noise, which sounded very similar to the one my Sam makes. The scraping noise stopped, and an answering trill filled the air.

We jogged over, and found Dad standing over a hole, covered in dirt and sweat. A mixture of emotions flitted across his face, ranging from relieved to irritated. "What're you doing here? I kinda gave you the night off." He stabbed the shovel into the ground and leaned against it, his eyes flickering to Sami before landing back on Dee, waiting for an answer.

Dee squared her shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. "We think you're hunting a yeth hound instead of just a regular old spirit."

Dad's eyebrows shot up. Dee gave me a look that said  _Well?_

I stepped forward, unwrapping my bag from around my neck as I spoke. "It's the attack pattern. instead of one large area with random hit points, there are really two circles, like - "

"A haunting path," Dad finished for me, his expression thoughtful for a moment. To my surprise, he turned to Sami. "You think so, too?"

She nodded. "Yeah - the patterns just don't add up to one spirit. And Kate said yeth's have a fear effect, which matches some of the survivor stories."

Dad wiped his brow and swore under his breath. "If it's a yeth, we need - "

I finished for him this time. "Iron rounds. We packed 'em."

He nodded slowly, looking at each of us in turn. Then he smiled. "Well, then. I guess I'll need your help afterall."

I watched Dee swell with pride, basking in Dad's praise. I saw Sami's hint of a smile, more relieved that he was okay than wanting his words.

I also saw a pair of glowing eyes from between the trees, right behind them.

"Get down!" I yelled, pulling my gun. The three hit the ground, the hound sailed through the air ( _riiiight_  - they can fly…), so I fired.

Its ghostly yelp echoed through the air right before it hit me full in the chest, and I blacked out.

**xxxxx**

When I woke, someone's tongue was in my mouth.

No, seriously, one second I'm being slammed to the ground by a yeth hound, the next I'm being Frenched.

It was now my turn to yelp, noting with disgust that the high pitched squeally sound meant I was once again, a preteen.

Fantastic.

"Settle down, love. Surely you can appreciate my wanting to savor the moment. Those chaste pecks on the lips are so...routine. And this moment was hardly routine. Wouldn't you say?"

I knew that voice. I knew the person attached to that voice. I swallowed hard and took a step back, carefully opening my eyes.

There he was. Full of himself and wearing that fucking smile that screamed, "Hey asshole, you're completely and utterly fucked."

He dramatically plucked a handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed the corners of his mouth. "Now. It will take me a bit to fetch her. There's a little...red tape...when it comes to transactions involving heaven. But never fear, Crowley always delivers."

My mouth went dry, and my stomach churned uncomfortably.

"And as promised, no tricks. You have my word as a professional." He casually tucked the cloth back into its pocket and watched me with amusement. "Well. It's been lovely meeting you." He leaned close, whispering in my ear. "See you in a year."

**XXXXxxxx TBC xxxxXXXX**


	10. Chapter 10

_**Previously, in Quantum AU…** _

When I woke, someone's tongue was in my mouth.

No, seriously, one second I'm being slammed to the ground by a yeth hound, the next I'm being Frenched.

It was now my turn to yelp, noting with disgust that the high pitched squeally sound meant I was once again, a preteen.

Fantastic.

"Settle down, love. Surely you can appreciate my wanting to savor the moment. Those chaste pecks on the lips are so...routine. And this moment was hardly routine. Wouldn't you say?"

I knew that voice. I knew the person attached to that voice. I swallowed hard and took a step back, carefully opening my eyes.

There he was. Full of himself and wearing that fucking smile that screamed, "Hey asshole, you're completely and utterly fucked."

He dramatically plucked a handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed the corners of his mouth. "Now. It will take me a bit to fetch her. There's a little...red tape...when it comes to transactions involving heaven. But never fear, Crowley always delivers."

My mouth went dry, and my stomach churned uncomfortably.

"And as promised, no tricks. You have my word as a professional." He casually tucked the cloth back into its pocket and watched me with amusement. "Well. It's been lovely meeting you." He leaned close, whispering in my ear. "See you in a year."

**XXXXX**

_**Eleven years ago, in Kate's reality…** _

"Come on...come on… _Goddammit_ , where is it?" Impatiently, I paced the intersection, anxious to get this over with, and anxious that I'd get caught before it could even happen.

And maybe I was just anxious about being here at all, but let's not go there.

I squinted down the road, trying to distinguish between the shadows and shadowy objects that stood just beyond the feeble glow of the streetlight.

"Well,  _hello_  there."

I spun around and found myself not five feet away from a very average looking demon. He wasn't particularly attractive; I mean, he was kinda old, but he  _did_  have an aura of confidence swirling about him. Maybe it was the British accent, or maybe it was just because he was a fucking demon facing down a gangly twelve-year-old girl in a deserted crossroad.

Whatever. Confidence or the fact that he was obviously a pompous dick, I didn't care.

I came to make a deal.

I folded my arms in front of my chest, and tried to channel Dean. "I want to make a deal."

The demon's eyebrows raised and his mouth twitched with amusement. "Oh, do you, now? I see. Do your overly emotional brothers know you're here? And how does Daddy Winchester feel about his baby girl making deals with Crossroads Demons?"

I almost chickened out at this point. I could handle my dad being pissed at me, but Dean and Sam? That would send me over the edge.

Which...considering what I was about to do...was really the least of my worries.

"Daddy Winchester isn't the one who summoned you. The deal is with me."

"I see…" I knew he wasn't taking me seriously. An unarmed, awkward pre-teen isn't exactly a serious player in the world of the Supernatural. But desperation was, and demons fed on that for breakfast. Besides, being a Winchester, I knew I'd get his attention.

Being the  _baby_ Winchester was a whole other story.

"And what deal would that be, hmmm? You want Daddy to be more loving? Brother Dean to like better music? Sister Sam to just...lay off the fucking whining?" He used this haughty tone, like he was trying to show off how much he knew of my family.

Not impressive. I knew demons read minds, so I wasn't wowed by his supposed knowledge.

I stiffened, and jutted out my chin. "I want to exchange my life for Mary Winchester's."

_That_  stopped him.  _Don't know everything, do you?_

"Well, well, well." He began a lazy swagger, tracing a slow circle around me. I knew he was trying to disorient me, make me spin around to follow him, and possibly get distracted so I'd mess up the terms of the deal.

_Not gonna happen, asshole. I know the terms I want._

He toyed with the cufflinks of his tailored suit as he strolled, eyeing me up and down. "That was unexpected." He stopped behind me and leaned close. "I  _love_  the unexpected. Makes my parts tingle." He straightened and continued walking. "So. Why?"

"None of your fucking business. Do we have a deal, or not?"

"Oh, hold on, missy." I almost growled at his words - only Bobby gets to call me that. "There's no need to be rude. I would be a very poor role model for the demon youth of today, if I didn't  _at_   _least_  get a reason for  _why_  you're willing to accept eternity in Hell so a dead woman can replace you in the family you claim to love so much."

I ground my teeth.

He stopped right in front of me, and stared intently into my eyes. All signs of amusement now gone. "So I'll ask again.  _Why_?"

This time, my resolve to stay strong and keep my reasons to myself, faltered. This demon was intimidating, despite my efforts to mimic my father and brother.

I thought of Sam, coming down with what will be a nasty cold, while severely stressing out over some test he had to take at school in two days. He was shutting me out  _and_  wanting me to take care of him, his mood changing every five minutes.

I thought of Dean, laid up in bed, twenty stitches in his side from fighting a werewolf. A fever from the wound told us it was infected, but we couldn't take him to a clinic, so Dad was treating it with really old antibiotics and Tylenol. He refused to let anyone be remotely caring towards him - insisting that his flesh wound was just going through an "awkward stage". But when his fever spiked at three this morning, and he was moaning for his mom, I kept cool towels on his face and pretended to be her, just to calm him down.

Then I thought of Dad, who, tonight, went through a six-pack and several shots of whiskey in an attempt to  _forget_ what he was doing to his sons, while simultaneously  _reliving_ why he did this shit in the  _first_ place. There was  _nothing_ I could do for Dad, except try to take care of my brothers so he could suffer quietly on his own.

I couldn't fix them. I couldn't make anything better. I felt helpless and useless and pointless.

My lower lip trembled a bit, but I squared my shoulders and met the demon's eyes. "I have my reasons."

"Hmmm…" Right then, I knew, that he knew, everything I was thinking. He read my thoughts. He felt my desperation. He knew I was an easy sale.

I took a deep breath. "So? Do we have a deal or not?"

He looked like he was considering my words. In a soft tone, he asked, "Do you even know what you're signing up for? Do you  _really_ understand what you're doing?"

Okay... _that_  stopped  _me_.

Narrowing my eyes at him, I asked, "Why do you care?"

He shrugged and resumed his lazy stroll around me. "I have my reasons," he replied cheekily.

We stared at each other, until he finally stopped pacing and casually put his hands in his pockets. He sighed dramatically. "No deal."

I blinked at him. "Wh - what?"

"I know - I'm as disappointed as you are. But that's the way it is. No deal."

"But...why? I thought you demons wanted souls - I'm willing to give you mine, for an easy price…"

He shrugged again. "I'm sorry, love. It's just not your time to make a deal like this. As much as I'd love, and I mean this sincerely,  _love_ , to plant one on your lips and call us square, I can't. So you'll have to return to your posh motel and grunt it out on your own."

I stood rooted to the spot. I was so sure... _so sure_...that I had the solution. I had figured out how to make them happy, and this sonofabitch wasn't going to let it happen.

Afraid I would start crying right in front of him, I turned on my heels and walked away.

**xxxxx**

_**Now…** _

With a quick snap of his fingers, Crowley disappeared, leaving me in a deserted crossroads, with only a year left to live.

Oh, shit.  _Ohshitohshitohshitohshit._

He gave me the deal. He gave me the deal I wanted, I must have sweetened the pot by making it one year instead of ten, and now I'm back again in this moment, knowing with clarity, that Mary wasn't needed to make things better.

I would do okay.

But now, I wouldn't get that chance.

_She_  wouldn't get that chance.

_Ohshitohshitohshit._

I scrubbed my hands over my face and began the trek back to the motel/apartment building. How the fuck was I going to explain this to Dad?

Guess I didn't think that far ahead last time.

Then again, I guess I didn't have to.

In my mind, I pictured what I was walking back to. I knew Dad was passed out drunk on the couch, a bottle of Jack cradled to his chest like a life preserver. Dean was feverish and in bed, about ready for another dose of pills and a serious bandage change. Sam was asleep in my bed, face first in his history book, drooling on page one hundred forty-five.

I reached the next block and turned the corner, thankful for the familiar neon sign blinking in the distance. The air was crisp and clean, sending goosebumps up and down my arm, so I hugged myself for warmth. There were scattered puddles on the road from a week's worth of rain, and for a second, I felt like stomping in them, just to do it.

Now that I'm faced with the reality of Hell, I needed a way to explain the level of desperation that led me to make a crossroads deal. It never occurred to me that a twelve-year-old was slightly limited in what can be done to positively impact a family situation like ours. That maybe, just maybe, some things needed to be worked out on their own, and eventually, relationships would form, situations would improve.

I'd only been hunting with them for about two years, and at this age, the gap between Dean and I was like a yawning chasm. What eighteen-year-old wants his twelve-year-old sister as a friend? And what fourteen-year-old wants his twelve-year-old sister as a mother?

Crowley said he needed some time to get Mary, but I had no idea how long he'd need.

What if she was already there?

That thought encouraged a quicker pace, which soon morphed into a jog. When I reached the door, I hesitated, key in hand, wondering yet again how I was going to explain all this to Dad. From inside, I heard something thud to the floor.

I guess the Jack wasn't the best teddybear after all.

Sighing, I fit the key in the lock, and went inside, locking and warding the door behind me. I took a moment to look around, taking in the true shittiness of this place compared to Bobby's. I gently placed the key back in the cup on the counter, and went to the living room.

At least this time, I knew my way around.

Sure enough, there was Dad, sprawled on the couch with one arm hanging off the edge. He was half under a blanket, with the now empty bottle of booze laying on the floor, just out of his reach. Shaking my head, I picked it up and arranged the blanket over his entire body, smiling a little at how he burrowed under it, smacking his lips and rolling onto his side.

After setting the bottle in the garbage, I grabbed the med kit and went to Dean, all the while reliving this part of my life.

That year was a rough patch for us. Money was really tight, and  _still_  Dad had a hard time choosing between getting a real job for a while and hunting for free. Recognizing that the need to eat was stronger than burning bones for someone else, Dean picked up part-time work when he could, in addition to hunting with Dad. He somehow managed to graduate high school that past spring, and was trying to enjoy being eighteen.

Which, as it turns out, wasn't that enjoyable.

The apartment had only two bedrooms, and it smelled terrible. Normally, Dad took a room and the three of us shared one. For some reason, Dad preferred to sleep on this ratty couch, so the boys had one room, and I the other. Which really turned into Dean in Dad's room, and Sam sharing mine.

I slowly opened Dean's bedroom door. He was in the exact same position I remembered - on his back, hand protectively over his side. Sweat glistened on his face, and he shivered when I felt his forehead, which was still quite warm. I opened the kit, and pulled out the pills. The fucking medicine was so old...but it was all we had.

I shook out two antibiotics, three Tylenol, and got a fresh glass of water. Sitting next to him, I ran my fingers through his hair and down his cheek. "Dean? Hey...you need to take some medicine, okay? Can you wake up for me?"

He grunted and rubbed his eyes. Jesus, he looked so young. One eye peeled open. "Hey…" He croaked. "What…?"

I smiled and held up the pills. "Time to take some meds."

He frowned, struggling with the news. Figuring I'd be helpful, I added, "You have a fever - remember? From the infection in your side?"

He held up one finger, blinking slowly, then nodded. He mumbled something, then motioned for the pills. Dutifully, I handed them over, wanting to slide in bed and let him lean against me for comfort.

But Dean wouldn't do that for another five years. By then, this Kate will be burning in Hell.

Once everything was swallowed, he batted my hands away and sort of rolled over, falling back asleep instantly. Rolling my eyes, I snuck a peek at his injury, noting that no blood had seeped through the bandages.

I smoothed the blankets over him and got another pass through his hair, eliciting a sigh rather than a scolding. Feeling bold, I planted a quick kiss on his forehead, making a face at the sweat that coated his skin and now coated my mouth.

Through the walls, I heard Sam moving around. Reluctantly, I left Dean in search of the drama that awaited me. The way Sam had been acting, you'd think he was possessed. One minute he was fine, the next he was a bitch. I couldn't keep up with his mood swings. The stress from his freshman year, coupled with Dad's training demands and the change in weather were taking their toll on him. He'd been sneezing for a couple days, and just felt run down. I remember him getting so sick, he had to miss three days of school, which to Sam, was a death sentence.

Dad wouldn't let me stay home with him, instead benching Dean to "babysit". Dean didn't mind taking care of Sam, but Sam minded being home, so their relationship deteriorated into cinders by the time I got home from school the first day.

It was weird running through these memories. This was eleven years ago, and with all the time shifting I've been doing, it felt like a million.

I got to my room just in time to watch a restless Sam try to pull his face off a huge book. Chuckling, I helped peel the paper off his cheek (yup - page one-forty-five), closing the book and placing it on the dresser. He actually started to protest, but I was ready for him.

"Shut up, Sam. You need some sleep, and three more words isn't going to make a difference."

He shot me a bleary glare, which may have been intimidating, if it wasn't immediately followed by him sneezing into the blanket.

"Yeah, you're done. Come on...get under the blanket for real." I started straightening the covers, pointedly ignoring his attempts to argue.

"No...Kate, I gotta...gotta - " Sneeze three. " _Ugh_...I gotta finish that chapter." Punctuate the whining with eye rubbing and a yawn, and presto - you have one teenager who is definitely going to bed.

"No gotta read nothing, Sam. Go to sleep. The book'll still be here in the morning." And hey, maybe your mom will be here, too. So much to look forward to.

He huffed through his congested nose, but made his long, awkward limbs comply and tuck under the blanket, shivering the whole time. These blankets were worn thin, definitely not providing enough warmth for someone about to catch walking pneumonia. I missed the thick ones at Bobby's.

He scooted over and lay down, his brow furrowing as he rubbed it. "Head hurts…"

I felt his forehead - a little warm. Nothing like what it will be. He pressed his head against my hand, prompting me to run my fingers through his hair. "I'll grab some Tylenol, okay? I'll be right back." He nodded and pulled the blanket up to his neck, settling on my pillow.

I grabbed the bottle from Dean's room, and headed back. He gratefully took two, commenting, in between sneezing, that he'd probably only nap a couple hours before getting up to finish his work.

Sure. Whatever makes you feel better, Sam.

Out loud, I said nothing, knowing that he'd sleep through the night, and wake up pissy because I didn't him finish that chapter.

He tossed and turned while I quickly changed into some sweats. I was about to leave and check outside for, you know, dead mothers returning to life, when Sam gave me one of those looks...with The Eyes. "It's cold…," he mumbled, pathetically sniffling and curling into a ball, eyes still focused on me.

_Goddammit…_

I sat facing him, wanting nothing more than to sit with him, like I did the last time. But Mary was coming. "I need to do a couple things. Try to sleep, and I'll be back soon, okay?"

He huffed, grabbing my sleeve and tugging me towards him. We stared at each other a moment, and I realized...sick he may be, but he was conscious, and maybe I should tell him what I... _she_...did.

"Sam…" I started.

He rolled his eyes. and let his hand drop to the bed. "Nevermind. Just...go do whatever you need to do. I'm fine." He rolled onto his side away from me, pulling the blanket over his face.

Oh.

Well.

Fine.

Sighing, I headed back to the front room, peeking through the curtains for any signs of Mary. Dad snored softly on the couch, and occasionally a cough or groan could be heard.

But no Mary.

**xxxxx**

I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, someone was retching in the bathroom, and sunlight was streaming through the curtains. I was still sitting in a chair by one of the windows, my back stiff and my neck sore. A quick look around the room revealed no Mary, but an empty couch, so I stretched and made my way to the bathroom, where Dad was currently...indisposed.

He glanced up at me before heaving yet again, weakly trying to wave me away.

Sorry, Dad. Not really twelve and I know what to do, here, having done it a hundred times before. I wet a cloth and gently laid it across the back of his neck. Instantly, he settled down, resting his head against his arm. "Hold on - I'll get some water."

I didn't wait for an answer, instead jogging to the kitchen and filling a mostly clean glass with mostly clear water. Dad hadn't moved, and the washcloth was still on his neck.

"Here…" I held out the glass, only to have a hand flapped at me. "At least rinse with it." Pause in hand flapping, then he took it.

There was a sip, a swish, and a spit, followed by actual swallowing. Shaky hands passed the glass back to me, and Dad slowly leaned back against the tub, holding the wash cloth in place. I set the glass down, and wet another one. Crouching in front of him, I dabbed at his face, making sure to apply the cold water to his temples and cheeks. His eyes fluttered closed, as he took deep steadying breaths, letting me take care of him.

The puking didn't happen in my life, so this was something new. I was also never this forward in offering help, so this could get interesting. More interesting.

"Better?" I asked.

He nodded, swallowed hard and gesturing for the glass again. Once the water sipping was done, I helped him back to the couch, frowning at the warmth coming off his skin.

"Hey...sit here a sec. I want a temp on you."

Dad grunted as he melted into the corner of the couch. "I'm fine," he ground out through clenched teeth, pulling the tattered blanket over his trembling body.

I scoffed, "Yeah, that's anything but fine. Wait here."

Before he could order me to stand down, I grabbed the med kit from Dean's room and fished out the thermometer. Christ, I hated these glass pieces of shit.

Waving it in front of Dad's face, I sang, "Open uuuuup!"

He considered arguing, but the power of the Open Up song won him over. His mouth twitched, then opened. I deftly stuck the glass rod in his mouth and sat next to him, eyeing the clock for the three minute mark. Dad leaned back, eyes trained on me. I was acting different - more like the me I am now, than the me I was then.

He knew something was up.

I tucked my legs under me and sighed. "Once I get this number, we need to talk."

Up went the eyebrows.

_You have no idea._

He nodded at the bedrooms.

"I know - I'll check on them in a minute. We...need to talk first."

The eyebrows pushed higher, and I simultaneously wanted those three minutes to last forever, and hurry the fuck up.

To help pass the time, I fussed with his blanket. My face must have given everything away, because Dad took my hand in his, pulling gently. I lay against him, relishing his arms around me, making that impenetrable John Winchester cocoon that even to this day, I crave from time to time.

At the three minute mark, Dad nudged me and removed the thermometer. We read it together. "Ninety-nine-eight. Looks like you caught Sam's bug."

Dad sniffed and rubbed at his eyes. "It'll be fine. We're holing up here until Dean's back on his feet, so we'll be good when it's time to go."

I nodded, fiddling with the thermometer, looking anywhere but at him.

He shifted a little and cleared his throat, gently prying the thermometer from my hands. "So. What's up?"

There wasn't a good way to say it. I didn't know how much time I had before Mary showed up. The boys were still asleep. If I could do one thing for this Kate, it was break the news to them.

I took a deep breath and just...spit it out. "I went out last night, after you fell asleep."

Dad sat up, the blanket falling to his lap. "You... _what?_ "

I stood and began pacing, rubbing the back of my neck. "Yeah, I've been… _*sigh*_  Look, there's no good way to say this, so…" I paused and looked him straight in the eye. "I made a deal with a crossroads demon, trading my soul for Mary's. She should be here any minute."

I've seen Dad speechless a few times in my life. One was when Sam announced his Stanford plans. Another when Dean decided he wanted to marry Cassie and settle down. A third was when we learned of Adam.

This speechless was more... _speechless-y_...than anything else. His mouth moved, strangled sputters came out, and his hands flew to his hair.

I held up my own hands in an effort to make him listen. Listen to what, I dunno, because this bombshell would make Stanford look like a picnic. I needed to act like twelve-year-old me, not twenty-three-year-old me. So I poured out all the upset from my tween years to this Dad.

"Listen to me. Look  _around_  you. Look  _at_   _you_. We...we can't keep living like this. You're drinking yourself into an early grave because you're so...sad and angry all the time. Dean's got an infection  _from a werewolf_ , which is fucked up to begin with, and the only thing he wants is his mom. And Sam...I can't even keep up with him. He needs someone who can care for him and give him that balance he needs."

I couldn't describe the look on Dad's face. The mix of emotions was too much. Let's just say that he was... _upset_.

"Everyone  _wants_  her. Everyone needs... _her_. I just...I figured that if she were here, you would all be okay. That all this," I made a sweeping motion with my arms around the room, "would get taken care of." I sat next to him. "I thought...no revenge means no...this."

As I said the words, I knew it wasn't true. It was something I could never have known at that age. But it's what drove me to that intersection, without even considering Bobby. Tears slid down my face.

Dad pushed himself off the couch and took over the pacing. He still hadn't said anything. but I knew he wanted to.

"What's going on?" We both jumped at Dean's words, low and raspy, like we got caught doing something we weren't supposed to be doing. He still looked pale, but he was definitely coherent, eyes locked on us as he carefully made his way across the room and into a chair.

"Your sister…" That's as far as he got. Dad choked on the words, and just settled for turning away, hands on his hips.

"My sister...what?" Dean looked from my tear-stained face to Dad's rigid back. "Seriously, what the fuck's going on?"

In a flat tone, I answered, "Made a deal with a demon last night."

Dean laughed. "Yeah, right." He looked to Dad for the punchline, but none came. The smile slid from his face. "Wait...you... _what?_ " He turned back to me, eyes narrowed and assessing for any sign of bullshit.

I couldn't answer him. I did maintain eye contact, but said nothing. Dad spoke instead. "She traded her life for your mom's." He looked over his shoulder at me. "How long?"

I swallowed. "One year."

Dean's eyes ping-ponged between Dad and me, the remaining color draining from his face. "What the fuck? Why would you do that?"

Dad pressed his lips together, scrubbing both hands over his face. "Doesn't matter. We're undoing this deal."

"Dad…" I started.

He whipped around and pointed his finger at me. "Don't you  _Dad_  me. I don't even…" He shook his head and held up his hands. "No. We're not discussing this. Not now. I can't...not now. Does Bobby know?"

I shook my head, wiping my eyes as more tears escaped down my cheeks.

"He will in a minute. Pack your stuff. We're going to Sioux Falls to figure this out."

No one moved.

" _Now!_ "

Dean and I jumped, nodding our heads. Dad fumbled in a jacket for his phone, angrily dialing Bobby's number as he walked outside. "Bobby? You won't  _fucking_  believe what just happened." The door slammed behind him, leaving Dean and I alone in the living room.

" _Kate…_ " he whispered, taking a step toward me.

I often wondered what would've happened if the deal was actually made. I remember being so pissed and disappointed when Crowley rejected my offer, because I couldn't even complete a demon deal right. How would I  _really_  have felt if he accepted? I was more than willing to die for them - these four men (boys) that filled my life.

But this was beyond dying - this was an eternity of  _Hell_.

Here's the thing, though. I'd gladly go to Hell for them. Okay, maybe not  _gladly_ , but I'd go. Willingly is probably a better word, right? I'd  _willingly_  go. I knew it back then, and I knew it now. That's just how much I loved them.

"Listen to me...Dean... _please_. I love you, okay? But I'm only twelve, and I can't make anything better for you. Not now, at least, and watching this family train wreck itself is killing me. I made a decision, I stand behind it, for better or worse.  _It's done_. Your mom's coming...I just don't know when or how. But she's coming. And maybe...maybe she can do what I can't."

Dean stood there, shaking his head,  _Nonononono_ , reaching out for me. I let him bring me close and hold me tight, remembering how it felt to be this small in Dean Winchester's arms. It wasn't quite like Dad's, but it was close.

"Jesus, Kate…" was all he said.

Behind him, Sam sneezed loudly, announcing his arrival into the mess. WIthout moving, Dean called out, "Go get packed, Sammy. We're going to Bobby's."

"What?!  _No!_ We can't go now! I have a major test in two days, and my math teacher said - "

"Sam!" Dean barked, cutting him off. "We...we have to go. You don't under- "

"Naturally, I don't understand. It's always something that you think I won't - "

I pulled away from Dean, giving Sam a sharp look, but speaking quietly. "Not now, Sam. I did something last night, and Dad wants to regroup to figure it out. This isn't about school, and he needs you to just put it aside for a minute. Okay? Please?"

I knew damn well I never spoke like that to Sam when we were kids, so it really stopped him. I could see the gears turning as he looked from Dean's anguished face to mine, still wet with tears. "What happened?" He whispered, but the words rang loudly in my head.

Dean and I exchanged a look, and I opened my mouth to explain this a third time, when the door opened, and in they walked.

Mary looked pretty much like she did in the other realities I visited. How bizarre that was. She was younger, though, which was probably how she looked when she died. Dad had this shocked look on his face, and I chalked this up to the fifth speechless moment in his life.

"Dean?" She whispered, her eyes raking over him like she couldn't believe how much he'd grown. Well, it  _had_  been fourteen years.

" _Mom?_ " He whispered, voice trembling to match the whole body shiver that ran through him.

"Mom?!" Sam exclaimed, stepping into the living room and staring, wide-eyed at her. "What the... _Dad?_  What's…"

His voice trailed off as Dean crossed the room in a few steps, crushing his mom to him, and crying like a lost little boy who finally found his way home. Dad was crying as well, watching the embrace with one hand covering his mouth, the other across his stomach. Mary pulled away, holding Dean at arm's length, and checking him over. "You have a fever," was all she said, but the words made Dean laugh and hug her again.

I knew right then, it was worth it. It was worth it, to see this, and to know it was real.

Sam spun me around to face him. "Did you do this? Did you do something to bring her back?"

I nodded, managing a small, sad smile.

The look on Sam's face was thunderous. "You - "

"Sammy? Is that really you?" Mary called out, and I wanted to kiss her myself for interrupting  _that_  lecture.

His head whipped around at her voice, speaking directly to him, and not in a dream. This woman he never knew, was the sole reason his life was in the crapper. Her death started a chain of events that led us to this very moment. I wasn't with Sam when he was really little, but Dean told me stories of how hard it was getting Sam to accept her absence, when all the other kids had moms and homes and normal things.

"Uhm...hey... _Mom?_ " That's my Stanford-bound eloquent brother.

"Oh my God, look at you. So handsome, and  _shit_...tall!" She laughed, placing a hand on his cheek. "I can't believe it!"

"That makes two of us," he stammered, making her laugh harder as she hugged him.

I stepped back, risking a peek at Dad. He was enjoying the reunion - I could see it. It looked like a weight was lifted from his shoulders, making breathing and living a lot easier.

Then he caught my eye. And the haunted look returned.

Shaking my head at him, I smiled, nodding at Mary.  _This is good. It'll be okay._

The awkward moment came when Mary turned to me. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, holding up one hand in a feeble  _Heyyyy_  gesture. I'd met Mary twice in this spell-shifting escapade. Each time, Kate was established in her life, and it was just  _me_  who had to adjust to what was (that) reality.

This here? This was the initial meeting, and I found myself facing a myriad of emotions I didn't expect. I wanted this - right? I traded my soul for this. Right? Because I couldn't do what I knew (or felt) she could.

_Right?_

So why did I feel threatened, like she was taking away the things I loved most? Why was I jealous? Why did I feel...regret?

At least those were  _my_  feelings, and not  _this_  Kate's. Maybe she'd feel differently. There was no way to know - my reactions were tainted with eleven more years with my family, and there wasn't a way to discount them.

Going for smooth, I said, "Hi...I'm...um...Kate. And...not really related to you at all, except maybe as a sort of step-daughter thing. But my mom's probably dead or something, and really not a winner anyway, so it's not like there's competition or anything with Dad, so." Everyone fell silent at the complete idiocracy of my words. Unable to stop, I kept going. "Yeah, and I'm super excited to meet you, finally, and it's...nice to have you here."  _Even though it means I'm going to Hell._

Oh, my God.  _What the fuck did I just say?_

Mary blinked, eyes full of amusement, and glanced at Dad before smiling at me. "It's nice to meet you, Kate. I guess I have you to thank for my being here, but…"

I shrugged. "It's complicated. I know. Everything usually is."

Again, silence. Even from Sam. Then Mary cupped my cheek in her hand, and gave me a hug. In my ear, she whispered, "We'll sort it out, okay? We will."

Swallowing hard, I hugged her back, and nodded.

**xxxxx**

Now understanding the need to head to Bobby's, Sam packed his shit without further comment. I'm assuming that Dean filled Sam in on why his mother suddenly returned from the dead, because Sam stopped asking what was going on. I returned to our bedroom after dumping a couple bags in the car, and found Sam sitting on the edge of our bed, hands clutching some Kleenex, eyes trained on the floor.

"Hey…you okay?" I walked over and felt his forehead, not really waiting for a response because the question was ridiculous. "I'll get you more Tylenol for that fever. It's a long ride to Bobby's, so you can just sleep in the car." I turned to go, when he grabbed my hand, pulling me down on the bed next to him.

"How can you act like nothing's going on?" His tone was accusatory, but there was no real heat in his words.

I brushed the hair off his face and gave him a half-smile. "Even with everything going on, you still have a fever, you still need some medicine, and you still need some rest. That doesn't change just because - "

"Just because you're going to Hell in a year." He dropped my hand and shook his head, eyes back on the floor.

"Sam…"

" _I can't lose you._ How could you not know that?" He used the same broken tone when Jess died. "I don't... _I don't know her_. How could you think she's better than you?"

I sighed, clenching my jaw against the tears threatening to fall. Not wanting to argue, I rested my chin on his shoulder, and lightly scratched the back of his head. "Let's talk about it later, okay? Right now, let's get you medicine, finish packing, and get on the road. There's plenty of time to -"

Sam let out a derisive laugh. "Three hundred sixty-four days. Not a minute more." He stood and shouldered his bag, taking a couple steps away, before dropping the bag to the floor and engulfing me in a giant Sam-hug. "We'll get you out of it. Somehow. Dad and Bobby'll figure it out." He pressed his forehead to mine, then left the room.

After wiping my eyes dry for the hundredth time, I scooped up Bear and a novel I was reading and headed into the hallway. Dean was just coming out of his room, wincing as he pulled his shirt down. Mary's voice sounded behind him. "Get some Tylenol - the new stitches will hurt for a while."

He nodded, glancing at me with eyes full of guilt, before heading towards the kitchen.

Already she was making a difference.

_Wait_...how did she know how to stitch a wound?

I passed by his room just as she snapped the med kit closed. "Hey there...got everything?" She smiled at me, in that Mom way, and while the bile rose at the thought of leaving them, my heart warmed knowing she was there.

"Yeah, I think so." I waggled Bear at her. "This was the last of my stuff."

Mary nodded and hefted the kit. "Okay...I guess it's time to meet this Bobby."

Grinning, I followed her towards the kitchen. "You'll like him. He's basically a teddy bear in a baseball cap."

"Who can plug a Black Dog from a hundred feet away," Dean chimed in from his seat at the table. He looked like he just ran a mile, pale and sweating, face pinched with pain.

Mary's eyebrows rose. "Hundred feet? That's impressive. Your grandfather could only do seventy-eight."

Dad poked his head through the doorway. "Everyone ready?"

Okay, hold the train. Dean was apparently too out of it to process what I just heard.

_Mary knew about hunting._

Oh...oh, this keeps getting better. Did the Mary from my reality hunt, too? Was this just another deviation, or was I learning things my own father didn't know?

Mary caught me staring at her, eyes flickering to Dad real quick, knowing that she blundered. She gave me a small shake of her head, telling me we'd talk later. I didn't know if we would or not, but I nodded back and we all piled into the car.

Being the smallest, I sat in the middle, trying to give as much room to my grown and still growing brothers. I figured they'd prop themselves against the doors, and sleep the whole way there.

Instead, I became a human pillow for Sam, curled in a ball with his face in my neck, the occasional sneeze or sniffle muffled against my shoulder. Dean tried to stretch out as much as possible, his long legs entwined with mine, one hand twisted in my sleeve. Both passed out within minutes, succumbing to the effects of Tylenol.

Mary sat in the front with Dad, alternating between holding his hand and resting her head on his shoulder. Dad kept one hand near her at all times, like Dean did with me, probably afraid this was a really bad dream.

Welcome to my life.

Now that it was quiet, and there was some down time between emotional conversations, I had time to process how the fuck I was going to face Bobby.

I made this decision with only the Winchesters in mind. Bobby hadn't even entered the equation, and the guilt was starting to gnaw at my insides. Despite my attachment to my father, Bobby was... _Bobby was my dad._  He didn't get a trade out of my deal. He just got a loss.

Way to go, Kate.

I hunkered down, holding Sam close and running my thumb along Dean's arm. I began hoping like mad for another shift. This Kate shouldn't be missing a single minute with her family. The clock wasn't going to wait for her return.

**xxxxx**

I stayed awake almost the entire drive, listening to Dad and Mary's voices, although I couldn't make out the words over the Impala's engine. It was weird enough hearing Dad speak softly, and be answered by a female's voice...that wasn't mine.

My eyelids did start fluttering closed when we hit the South Dakota state line. I figured a nap would probably be a good idea, since dealing with Bobby was going to be draining. The engine's rumble, the Winchester lullaby, cajoled me into resting my head against Sam's and closing my eyes.

Dean stretched, his knee jabbing me in my side, sharp and painful. It caught me off guard, making me jump a little, and my head knocked against Sam's. The second time happened after I had  _just_  fallen asleep, so the jolt back to consciousness left me a tad on the cranky side.

"Christ, Dean, knock it off!" I shoved at him, not remembering his stitches, until my hands latched onto something sticky and wet.

And... _furry…?_

My eyes snapped open, just as a gunshot rang out, killing the Black Dog that was mere inches from my face.

Cue the adrenaline rush.

"Kate?  _Hey!_ Kate! You with me?"

I tore my eyes off the dog, and jumped again as adult Sam's face loomed in front of mine, worried and frantic, hands roaming and checking for injuries. "Goddammit, he got your side...Jesus, that's nasty. Okay...it'll take a while, but I can stitch it shut. How's your head? I swear I heard a crack when you hit the tree." Gentle hands prodded the back of my head, which was spinning uncontrollably, both from the scenery change and the pain.

"Sam…" I mumbled, struggling for control and trying to understand what just happened.

"You gonna hurl?"

Oooh, that was a definite possibility.

Which became more definite and less possible ten seconds later.

"Whoa...okay, hold on…" He held my head as I threw up all over the dead dog, thinking  _Ha - that's what you get, bitch._

A bottle of water appeared at my lips, and I took a small sip, glad to rinse the taste out of my mouth. Sam pushed the hair off my face, and chuckled. "You called the dog, Dean. I'm so telling him when we visit tomorrow." He shook out a bandana and pressed it against my side. "C'mon - let's get back to the motel and patch you up. Can't let him see you like this."

Figuring the whack on my head would excuse stupid questions, I simply asked, "Where is he?"

Sam hoisted me up, wrapping an arm around my shoulders to keep me standing. "Studying engineering at Stanford - remember? Wait... _do_  you remember?" He moved in front of me, bending down to look into my eyes. "Fuck - we'll do a concussion check once you're in bed. Come on, Kat, wait in the Impala while I burn the dog."

**XXXXxxxx TBC xxxxXXXX**


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this delay - it's been hectic. :/ At least it's a long chapter!! :D

__

_**Previously, in Quantum AU…** _

"Christ, Dean, knock it off!" I shoved at him, not remembering his stitches, until my hands latched onto something sticky and wet.

And... _furry…?_

My eyes snapped open, just as a gunshot rang out, killing the Black Dog that was mere inches from my face.

Cue the adrenaline rush.

"Kate?  _Hey!_ Kate! You with me?"

I tore my eyes off the dog, and jumped again as adult Sam's face loomed in front of mine, worried and frantic, hands roaming and checking for injuries. "Goddammit, he got your side...Jesus, that's nasty. Okay...it'll take a while, but I can stitch it shut. How's your head? I swear I heard a crack when you hit the tree." Gentle hands prodded the back of my head, which was spinning uncontrollably, both from the scenery change and the pain.

"Sam…" I mumbled, struggling for control and trying to understand what just happened.

"You gonna hurl?"

Oooh, that was a definite possibility.

Which became more definite and less possible ten seconds later.

"Whoa...okay, hold on…" He held my head as I threw up all over the dead dog, thinking  _Ha - that's what you get, bitch._

A bottle of water appeared at my lips, and I took a small sip, glad to rinse the taste out of my mouth. Sam pushed the hair off my face, and chuckled. "You called the dog, Dean. I'm so telling him when we visit tomorrow." He shook out a bandana and pressed it against my side. "C'mon - let's get back to the motel and patch you up. Can't let him see you like this."

Figuring the whack on my head would excuse stupid questions, I simply asked, "Where is he?"

Sam hoisted me up, wrapping an arm around my shoulders to keep me standing. "Studying engineering at Stanford - remember? Wait... _do_  you remember?" He moved in front of me, bending down to look into my eyes. "Fuck - we'll do a concussion check once you're in bed. Come on, Kat, wait in the Impala while I burn the dog."

**XXXXX**

_**Now…** _

When a witch turned Dean into a four-year-old, I got clawed in the side. I remember Sam patching me up with duct tape and towels until Bobby was able to stitch me up. This was similar, and I wondered when my luck would run out and I'd finally get hit full in the chest.

It hurt like hell. Okay, I'm fairly certain that Hell actually hurts worse than this, and I thanked the stars I dodged  _that_ bullet.

But this still hurt.  _A lot._

I was trying to focus past the pain and on the scenario around me, but it was  _really_ fucking hard. I wanted to pass out, but Sam wouldn't let me, afraid that I had a concussion. That meant I had to be awake for the stitches, which, in my opinion, was totally unfair. On the plus side, he did let me have some seriously yummy whiskey, and after the third shot, I couldn't tell when the needle went into my skin.

So I guess it  _was_  totally fair.

As per Sam, he babbled the whole time, trying to distract me from the sewing and keep me awake. My mouth wouldn't work enough to explain that his voice was actually putting me to sleep, so I kept nodding instead.

" _Sooooo_ ," Sam likes to stretch vowels when he concentrates. "...he's expecting us tomorrow around lunch,  _buuuuuuuut_ I'm thinking we may need some extra time in the morning. I don't know how you're going to feel, so we may end up getting there around dinner, or the day after, which, I know, you'll protest once you're sober and coherent enough to do so, and he'll be a complete bitch if we're late,  _buuuuuut_  if you're not conscious, we can't exactly have a nice visit, now can we?" There was a tug on my side, and I knew he was tying the knot, signalling the end of the arts and crafts project.

I squinted at him. "Done?"

He nodded, sighing and studying his work. "You're gonna hurt tomorrow, Kitkat."

I shrugged and swallowed, shifting in the bed a little. "S'ok. It hurts  _now_. Gimme some pills, and it'll be fine."

Sam chuckled, packing up the supplies and heading to the bathroom. "Give it another half hour before you pass out, okay?"

Grunting, I flipped him off and closed my eyes anyway. Laughing harder, he washed his hands in the bathroom sink, grabbed some Tylenol and handed me three pills and a glass of water.

I whined at him. "Just Tylenol?"

"If you're alive in the morning, you can take the good stuff on the drive."

"Oh wow, something to look forward to. Thanks."

"My pleasure. Now be a good girl and swallow these."

Once everything went down, he turned off the lights.

Sam helped me change into sweats and a clean shirt before stitching me up, so I was already dressed for bed. It wasn't until I heard him shucking clothes that I realized  _he_  needed to do the same. When the blankets lifted and he crawled in next to me, it occurred to me that while I heard clothes come  _off_ , I  _didn't_  hear clothes go  _on…_

So…

_Let me stress: I'm too fucked up to process this many pieces of information._

An arm snaked around my body, gently positioning me to lay against him, like one of those full-body pillows. A little more shuffling informed me that Sam was indeed wearing clothes, so there wasn't a need for panic.

_Hooray_  - one more thing off my mental plate.

Taking a deep breath of just  _Sam_ , I mumbled against his shirt. "If you wanted me awake another half hour, why're you making me comfortable?"

His laugh was deep and throaty, full of amusement. Not  _quite_  like my Sam, who tended to taint the funny with drama. "Because as soon as I said it, I knew there was no way you'd make it, so might as well make you comfortable." His hands smoothed my hair, and it fell silent for a few beats. Then he murmured, "How're you doing? Really?"

_There's_  the worry I was missing. He seemed too upbeat. Sometimes it's hard to tell ManicSam from HappySam.

I snuggled close and answered honestly. "It really hurts. But I'll be fine. There's no concussion, I just feel really wiped out."

He ran his thumb along my arm and kissed my hair. "You really scared me. There was a lot of blood."

"Mmm...I'm dramatic like that."

We both chuckled, then lay in bed listening to the faucet drip in the bathroom. It'd been awhile since I had some good old fashioned Sam interaction. It wasn't  _my_  Sam, but it was close. And right now, I'll take close.

"What're you thinkin'?" He was whispering, testing to see if I was asleep. I considered not answering, so I could enjoy passing out. But then it hit me - what if I wake up somewhere else?

Wanting to continue the conversation and avoid that possibility, I answered him. "Nothing, really. Just wondering how the visit will go tomorrow." I tried to keep it vague, hoping that Sam's natural chattiness would fill in the gaps.

I wasn't disappointed.

He snorted softly, adjusting his legs so they crossed at the ankles, his arm still wrapped around me. "Well, he's still psyched about all the job offers he's getting, which puts him in a good mood, so he probably won't bitch too much about us hunting...although those stitches in your side will threaten that. Um...he'll remind us how his graduate degrees are bumping up his potential salary, and then hint at how he could easily afford a nice house so we can live with him and leave hunting for good, like he did on the last visit. Let's see...I think you're right, and he's gonna propose to Cassie sometime soon, maybe before graduation in a few months, so he'll try to set us up with friends in hopes that we'll fall in love and leave hunting. And last but not least, we'll get a lecture or three about how Dad doesn't watch out for us enough, how he's worried, how he's trying to provide a stable home for us, and oh yes, how he wants us to leave hunting. Think I'm close?"

I couldn't help it - I laughed. Dean and I had almost the same conversation about Sam a couple times during Sam's senior year at Stanford. "He loves us," I said.

Sam laughed, too. "I know he does. It'll be a good visit. They always are. Last time we talked on the phone, he was really excited to see us."

I turned my head a little, trying to see his face. "You ever think about going to school?"

He laughed  _really_  hard at that. " _Fuck_ , no. There's no way I could sit through classes and yessir all those teachers. No can do." I got another kiss on the head, and he got serious. "Like I told you, after the shtriga attacked me when I was little...everything changed. Dad just...treated Dean differently. You could feel the disappointment all the time, and it just ate at him every day." He sighed. "And when he didn't shoot the shtriga, and Dad flipped out, he knew he had to find another path to take care of me. Then you came along," Ooh, extra squeeze. "...and it solidified his decision to work hard at school, and get us out. He didn't want us to deal with Dad the way he did."

I digested all this, noting that the pain in my side had eased up, making concentrating a lot easier. "And the shtriga had the opposite effect on you," I surmised.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. I never wanted to be that vulnerable again. I never blamed Dean for not shooting it, and I never will. He was just a kid! But I knew that I had to train harder so I could keep  _him_  safe. He fights just as good as us...but he hates doing it. You know he tends to hesitate, and I won't let his gentler side get him killed. I love him as is, and I want to protect him as best as I can."

Even though it wasn't really me he was talking to, I still had to chime in. "As best as  _we_  can."

He smiled. "Yup _._  He's the big brother, but it's our job to take care of him."

"And he sees it as his job to take care of us by being stable."

Sam nodded. "Yeah. The closer graduation gets, the more hopeful he gets, and I'd almost rather not visit just so we didn't have to hear the speeches. But…"

"You miss him."

Another nod.

"I miss him, too. The visit'll be fine...and soon we'll get another hunt from Dad, and then we'll be outta there."

Another nod, followed by a sigh, and a hug.

Sam cleared his throat. "Okay...get some sleep. And be honest about how you feel in the morning. I'll know if you're lying."

I smiled. Oh yeah, I liked this reality. Reminded me of home.

I clung to that thought as I fell asleep.

**xxxxx**

I woke slowly, like I was floating to the surface of a pool after laying at the bottom for a while. I wondered where I was, until I stretched, and every stitch in my side pulled and shot a fire-hot jolt of pain up and down that side of my body.

It kind of killed the whole serene/floaty theme that was running through my head. Not to mention confirming where I was.

I clenched my jaw and curled into a ball, sucking in air between my teeth, making this ridiculous hissing noise as I tried to be quiet and not wake Sam.

" _Whoa_...easy, there..." I guess he was already awake. Strong hands brushed the hair out of my face and wiped tears off my cheek.

"Forgot about 'em…," was all I got out, in-between poor attempts to laugh it off.

Sam laughed softly. "Only you, Kitkat, only you."

He kept his hand in my hair until the pain receded, allowing me to breath normally. I nodded, and relaxed, taking stock of how I felt.

"How do you feel?" He asked, his eyes full of concern as they roamed all over my face, trying to determine if my answers were honest.

"Better...I just pulled at 'em - that's all." I flashed a smile at him. "I'm good, really." Letting out a slow breath, I sat up, with his help. "What time is it?"

Sam glanced at the clock on the night stand. "Only nine. We have time."

I had no idea if we  _really_  had time, or what he really  _meant_  by "having time" since I had no clue where we were or when Sam wanted to get to Palo Alto.  _I wanted to see Dean_ , and wasn't about to let stupid stitches get in the way. "Okay...lemme get dressed and we'll - "

"Yeah, right.  _Slow down_. We'll get there sometime this afternoon; it's not a big deal. You're taking the good stuff today, so you'll want time for them to wear off before we get there...unless you wanna be stoned when you see him."

My head lolled back, and I gazed up at him. I didn't really get a good look at Sam last night - it was dark, I was getting clawed and sewed, and things were a bit busy. Since it was now quiet, I took a few seconds to study my brother.

His hair was long, down to his chin, and for the most part tucked behind his ears save for a few stray clumps. There was a small scar above his right eyebrow, and his nose looked like it'd been hit a couple times. Stubble lined his chin and cheeks, giving him a rough, masculine look that contrasted the innocent boy I remembered studying law.

I wondered if Dean would have that look, now.

_But his eyes_...his eyes were the same, filled with concern and affection, intelligence and determination. Always showing him assessing, processing, contemplating.

Don't get me wrong - I missed my Sam with every fiber in me.  _But I liked this Sam_.

I smiled at him. "Not gonna be stoned - I'll be fine. I just wanna get on the road, okay?"

He rolled his eyes, but I knew he wasn't upset. "Okay. Just...take it easy." He lifted my shirt to inspect his work. "They're red, and swollen, and I know they're sore, so don't even lie about it." He let my shirt fall and ran his fingers through his hair, wincing a little with the movement. "He's gonna be so pissed when he sees them."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Yeah? He'll be just as pissed that you wrenched your shoulder."

Oooh, there's GuiltySam. "What're you talking about?"

I snorted. "I dunno, Sam. Fluffing your locks shouldn't hurt, so I figure you did something and just didn't tell me." He tried to look impassive, but it wasn't working. "And I wouldn't be surprised if something else is hurting you, too." I flapped a hand at him, carefully swinging my legs onto the floor. "But I'll find out, because I always do. So you can take the hope that Dean focuses only on  _my_  injuries and shove it up yer buttocks, because he'll be upset over both of us."

I got to my feet, blew Sam a kiss, and began hobbling to the bathroom...wondering all the while if he'd respond the way I thought he would, or if I totally miscalculated and he'd start throwing holy water at my face.

"Yeah? Well... _you_...were bleeding. So.  _That_...trumps muscle things."

_Yes!_

"Muscle things? Really? You have those?" Chuckling gave way to pure laughter, to where Sam had to walk over and help me get the rest of the way to the bathroom. He gave me a kiss on the head then lightly shoved me inside.

"Get cleaned up, jerk. We'll leave as soon as you're ready."

"We'll leave after I check your shoulder, bitch. 'Kay? Love you!" Then I slammed the door, grinning at the sound of his giggling on the other side.

Showering was a delight. I was willing to endure the awkwardness of trying to keep the stitches dry while washing Essence of Black Dog off me. I dried off and realized  _heyyyyy_ , no clothes.

"Sam - hand me my bag, would ya?" I called through the door.

The door opened and a navy duffel bag poked through the opening.

My clothes here looked like my clothes in my reality. Apparently, "boring and gender neutral" is a style that spans time and space.

Once dressed and my hair was twisted into a ponytail ball, I emerged from the bathroom ready to get on the road. Sam was sitting on the bed, rotating his shoulder, like he was testing it out.

Dropping my bag on the floor, I motioned with my hand. "Take your shirt off so I can see what you did."

Huffing, Sam started the shirt removal process, only to groan a little as a way of asking for help.

I helped tug it off and carefully prodded the joint, noting the slight swelling and bruising. "Was I so out of it last night that I didn't see you hurting?"

Sam shook his head. "Wasn't this bad last night.  _Unghghh_...that's the spot…," he gasped. His hands gripped the side of the bed and his face contorted into a grimace.

I shook my head back at him and pulled at my chin. "It's not dislocated or anything, I think you just pulled it. Do we have any of those icy hot patches left?" Like I had any idea what he had in his med kit. But this conversation was like many I've had with my brothers after hunts, and the words just flowed out of my mouth as if this was just...normal.

Another head shake. "Ran out back in Texas." He sighed, long and low, and his shoulders kind of slumped.

"We'll stop on the way out of town, okay?" I ran my fingers through his hair, feeling the strands slide between my fingers. I tucked some behind his ear. "Lemme check the rest of you real quick." I suspected something else was bothering him. That sigh over a lack of hot patches felt out of place.

Proving me right, all he did was swallow, and lift one arm, revealing a nice bruise running the length of his side, disappearing below his waistband. I let out a low whistle, gently running my hands over it. "How far down does this go?"

He twisted and looked down at it. "A few inches. I got knocked into a tree right after you did, only I hit it sideways, while you hit yours head on." He looked up at me, lowering his arm and smiling ruefully. "We're a pair, today."

"Mmmmm...I think we're a pair every day. You were moving pretty good last night. Or at least I think you were."

"I was. Probably running off adrenaline." He thunked his head against my chest. "Maybe we can tell him we're busy, and visit next weekend."

I massaged the back of his head. "Which  _we_  are you talking about? Because  _I'm_  not delivering that message to him."

"Bah."

Taking a chance, I pulled out a conversation I had with Dean during Sam's sophomore year. "Look. We hunt, he doesn't, and that's okay. Honestly? He has to get over it, Sam. I know he just wants what's best for us, but he also has to accept that this is the path we chose, just like we've accepted his." I gave his scalp an extra scritching. "You want me to drive?"

He leaned back, squinting up at me. "Last I checked, I wasn't dead. So no, you're not driving my baby."

I arched an eyebrow.  _His_  baby? Well, well.

Raising my hands in surrender, I conceded. "Okay, just trying to help."

We put his shirt back on and he rose to get his bags, already neatly packed and sitting on the table. "You're taking at least half a pill of the good stuff, to help with the pain, and you can't drive with that shit in you." I started to protest, but got cut off. "The pain's gonna get worse with you sitting in the car for hours, and by the time you figure that out, we'll be too close to Dean for you to take anything, and then you'll regret  _not_  taking something, and I'm not dealing with that emo bullshit today."

He hefted his bags and plastered a smile on his face. I blinked at him. "Someone needs his coffee," I grumbled.

"Yep, and that'd be this bitch right here." He gestured at himself. "Now let's get going. You need some food in your stomach before you take that pill."

**xxxxx**

Turns out, we were on the outskirts of Carson City, Nevada, and the Dog was on the fringe of Tahoe National Forest. So we had about two hundred forty-five miles to go, give or take a few. Like a good little Winchester, I took half a pill, and let it do its magic. Sam was right - half a pill definitely and absolutely took the edge off, and maybe made me feel like I just smoked a joint.

We stopped at a drugstore and got Sam's shoulder all patched up with those muscle stickers that made him shiver as the medicine started to work. One more stop for caffeine and we were on the highway, heading southwest along Route 50.

I shifted in my seat and accidentally kicked a box of tapes on the floor. Bending down to look, I was surprised to find a bunch of mix tapes, all numbered from one to twelve. I don't know why, but I still expected to find a bunch of Zeppelin and Sabbath tapes peeking at me.

"You can put one in if you want," Sam said, glancing over at me.

I hesitated. "Which one do you want to hear?"

He shrugged, winced, then made this quick little gesture with his hand. "Whichever one you want. Just pick one."

I still hesitated. I wasn't driving, so…

He looked over again. "What's wrong? Your head hurt?" He had this little frown on his face, like he couldn't figure out why I was just sitting there, with what was probably a really confused look on my face.

I guess the music rules are different here.

Shaking my head, I answered, "No - nothing's wrong. Just...don't know which one to pick."

Sam chuckled. "Would you feel better if I picked one?"

It seemed stupid, but I did. I totally did. Holding out the box, I let Sam grab a cassette and pop it into the player. I set the box back onto the floor, then settled back against my seat, enjoying the scenery flashing by.

Half an hour passed, and I was stunned into silence at the music on that tape. The mix was incredible - you never knew what was coming up next. It started off with classic rock, then gave way to something purely classical, then jazz, then something alternative, indie electronic, even country. I found myself smiling at each song change.

It reminded me of my current situation.

"What current situation?" Sam asked.

Oh shit...talking out loud again...

"Yes, Kate, you're totally talking out loud." He laughed. "I love you  _so fucking much_  when you're on those pills."

I turned to face him, feeling the cool leather against my cheek as my head stayed firmly attached to the headrest. "Mmmm...and I love  _you_  so fucking much when I'm  _on_  these pills. How much longer?"

"Longer. Take a nap. I'll wake you when we're there."

I shook my head, keeping my lips pressed firmly together to avoid babbling. "Wanna visit with you."

Sam raised an eyebrow, his mouth curved into a smile. "You visit with me all the time."

Sighing, I faced the window. "Not really." Like I could explain it more. More-er.  _Mmmmm,_   _pills_...

Sam reached over and squeezed my hand. "Is this just the pills making you all mushy or is something else going on in there?"

I blew out a breath, watching the window fog up in a misshapen circle shape. "You ever wonder if there are other universes out there? With us in them?"

"What...you mean alternate realities? Like that Star Trek episode we saw last week?"

I had no idea what "we" saw last week, but I ran with it anyway. "Yeah. So like, what if there are an infinity number of me's and you's and Deans running around in an infinity number of life situations. That'd be weird, right?" I was well aware of my goofy word choice and the fact that I barely made sense, but the meds made me not give a shit if I sounded stupid.

I just wanted to talk with my brother.

Sam gave my hand one last squeeze before returning to the steering wheel. "Well, there isn't scientific proof that it can't exist, so I suppose that means it's possible. Would it be weird? I guess so...I mean, it's hard to imagine other versions of me running around doing something other than what I'm doing now."

The fog circle faded, so I made another one and started tracing various symbols in it. "What if you were at Stanford, and Dean was hunting?"

A loud barking laugh erupted from his mouth. "That's...yeah, I can't even imagine that!"

I breathed a little laugh. "And what if your mom was alive, and Dad was gone?"

That one was met with complete silence...so much silence that I glanced over to make sure he even heard me. He had this odd expression on his face, a nice combo of sad and contemplative.

"Sam?"

His eyes darted toward me real quick. "I heard you. I'm just...trying to imagine that one...and...I can't. I just...can't." He rubbed his jaw, and his forehead got that wrinkly look, telling the world he was thinking really hard.

I turned back to the window. "What if we met the other us's? What if we couldn't get back home? What if...what if I lost you?"

"Oooooo-kay, visit time's over."

"Huh?" I frowned at him. Did I out myself?

He reached across the seat, and tugged on my sleeve. I scooted closer as his arm snaked around my shoulders, pulling me until my head rested against him. "Nap time, Kitkat. You're getting sad over a scientific theory, which means you need to sleep it off. Then we'll just give you extra strength over the counter stuff from now on, okay?  _Okay_."

"But - "

"Shush."

His fingers brushed up and down my arm, and I couldn't stop myself from drifting to sleep.

**xxxxx**

A gentle nudge and a singing voice woke me. "Heyyyyy Kitkat - we're almost there. Time to wakey-wakey."

My head was resting against a jacket wedged between me and the window. I swallowed and sat up, blinking as the cobwebs cleared from my brain and the jacket dropped to my lap. Reaching down, I felt the stitches in my side, and knew that I was still... _here_. Making some sort of grunting noise to let Sam know I was awake, I uncapped a bottle of water and took a long drink.

I gestured at Sam's shoulder. "You need another round of stickers?"

He rotated his shoulder a little and nodded. "Yeah, I think one more'll do the trick."

I nodded and grabbed the box of patches from the drugstore bag and began the process of getting Sam's arm out of his shirt, then removing the old patches and placing the new. I was fairly engrossed in my task and still shaking off sleep and my own pain meds, so Sam's question caught me completely off guard.

"So...who's Castiel?"

I froze, patch poised above his shoulder, my jaw hanging down. My eyes darted this way and that, as my brain scrambled to come up with an intelligent answer.

"Um…why?" Three cheers for stalling.

Sam glanced at me. "You were saying his name in your sleep..."  _Fucking awesome._  "...and asking him to get you home."  _Cherry-on-the-sundae awesome._

I swallowed slowly, and finished patching Sam's shoulder, still buying time until I could come up with a response.

"At least I'm assuming it's a he. You kinda... _moaned_  his name, so…"

Just fucking shoot me now.  _Moaned_  his name?  _Gah…_

I felt a blush rise up my neck and into my cheeks. "What else did I say?" I asked, trying to determine if I said more than I should have.

He shrugged with his uninjured shoulder. "You mumbled something about a trenchcoat. That's it."

I got Sam's arm back in its sleeve and smoothed his shirt down. After gathering up the garbage, I scooted back to my side and absently shoved it all into the bag. Sam nudged me. "Hey...you okay? It's not a big deal, I was just curious. You've just never talked in your sleep before."

I waved a hand at him. "No...it's fine. Cas is…" And brilliance struck. "...a character from a book I read. Guess I was remembering him." I flashed what I hoped was an embarrassed smile.

Sam shook his head and laughed softly. "I know you like those trashy romance novels, so I figured he was from one of them. They always have exotic names like Sebastian, Tristan or Blake." He lowered his voice dramatically for that last one.

I laughed loudly (and maybe a twinge hysterically), and 'fessed up'. " _Yeeeaah…_ " And left it at that.

We passed a sign announcing that we were about an hour outside Palo Alto, so Sam decided to stop, fill the Impala, and go to the bathroom. I got some caffeine to help me wake up, and took some extra-strength Advil to help with the pain. He did the same.

Castiel didn't re-enter our conversation, and I hoped it stayed that way. The last hour passed quickly, and before I knew it, we pulled into Palo Alto and cruised down main and side roads to Dean's apartment.

Dean, the graduate student, lived with Cassie in a posh area off campus. I remembered my Sam telling me about this apartment complex when he was at school - the rent was double the average rate in town. From what this Sam said, Dean was earning money from his intern job, even though he wasn't supposed to get a salary. They liked him that much.

The Impala rumbled to a stop in front of a six-story apartment building, which looked like it was built yesterday. The expansive front yard was perfectly manicured, and currently populated with several men playing football. It didn't take long to find Dean, laughing with some blond guy.

Laughing.

Playing a sport.

_Laughing while doing something athletic that didn't involve sex or a weapon_.

Sam watched the scene, eyes lighting up when he spotted our brother, despite the frown on his lips when he saw everyone else.

"What is it?" I asked.

Sam shook his head. "He's talking to that Brady guy - the one who hit on you last time." He narrowed his eyes. "I don't like him...something's off...just...can't put my finger on it." The warning was in his voice, even though it wasn't in his words.

_Stay away from him._

I looked back at Dean, who spotted the Impana and was jogging over. I nodded at Sam, telling him I got the message. Sam huffed through his nose before opening the door and stepping outside. I followed suit, grinning when Dean pulled Sam into a huge hug.

"Hey, Sammy!"

"Hey, Dean. How are you?"

Sam returned the hug, a little awkwardly, because of his shoulder. He winced when Dean grabbed him, setting off Dean's big brother radar.

Dean let go and stood back, running his fingers through his hair, eyes narrowing. "Good! Better than you. Where're you hurt?"

Sam laughed. "Shoulder and side. But I'm okay. Just bruised."

"Uh-huh. I'll check inside." He turned to me and walked over. I stayed close to the car for support, but reached out with both arms, eager to be wrapped up in Happy Dean. "Hey, Katie," he said, his mouth curved into a smile.

"Hey, Dean!" I wasn't disappointed. Dean hugs were like no other.

In my ear, he murmured, "Where were  _you_  hurt, hmmm?"

I chuckled and shrugged. "Got some stitches in my side. No big deal." I kissed his cheek and smiled up at him. "It's really good to see you." And it was. This Dean was still older than Sam, but he didn't look it. He had no haunted look in his eye, no heavy weight of guilt and more guilt for things that weren't his fault.

He cupped his hand around the back of my neck and gave me a gentle squeeze. "It's good to see you, too. Come on. Cassie's inside, and I wanna check you two over before we go eat."

Sam rolled his eyes as he made his way to the trunk. "We're  _fine_ , Dean. Let's just go eat. I'm starving!"

Dean grabbed the bags out of the trunk, but still managed to point a finger at Sam. "Shut up. I haven't seen you in a few months, and when I do, you're both hurt. I get to check you over before we do anything, and you don't get to argue with me." He turned his back to us and began walking up the path. "Besides, I need a quick shower before we go anywhere. C'mon."

Sam winked at me and I hid a smile behind my hand. We each grabbed a second bag of weapons and warding supplies. Sam leaned down and whispered, "We'll check the wards when they're asleep."

Nodding, I hefted the bag onto my shoulder, grunting as the stitches pulled, and followed Dean inside.

He was on the fourth floor, which required the use of an elevator. I hadn't really moved much today, and the short walk from the parking lot to the elevator wiped me out. Dean sensed it, because once the doors closed, he quietly took my weapon bag, giving me a look that cemented the impending exam.

"Cass! They're here!" Dean called out as he set our bags on the floor. He pulled his sweaty t-shirt off and motioned for Sam to do the same.

Sam was about to protest, which was just plain stupid. I smacked him on the arm when Dean went looking for his girlfriend.

_You can't fight the tide._

He opened his mouth, but then thought better of it, tossing me a sour look instead. I would've snickered at him, but I knew my time was coming as well.

"Heyyyyy, guys!"

It's been years since I heard that voice. Funny how plotlines can deviate like crazy, but some threads remain intact. Her dark curls bounced around her pretty face, and she practically ran over to Sam, giving him an enormous hug, clearly excited to see us.

"Hiya, Cassie! How are you?" Sam's response was sincere, so I assumed we were okay with this pairing.

She shrugged and winked at him. "Ehhhh...I'll be better when this stupid dissertation is done. Heya, Kate!" I also got a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek, and kudos to me for not crying out when she pressed against my side. "Don't be mad, but we're going shopping tomorrow. I need a girl's opinion on something I want to buy."

I raised my eyebrows. In a dry tone, I asked, "So why are you taking me?"

Cassie laughed and Dean shoved me towards a chair. "Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny, sis. Now sit down 'til I'm done with Sam."

I dutifully sat, and even folded my hands in my lap.

"Sweetie, go grab the first aid kit from the closet, would ya?" Cassie nodded at him, and left. Dean made a face as Sam struggled to remove his shirt. Unable to watch Sam fight with his clothing any longer, Dean stepped in and helped Sam finish undressing.

There they stood - both my brothers - shirtless. Sam's torso was riddled with various scars and bruises, clear evidence of his current profession. The recently acquired bruising stuck out - a bright purple blob running down Sam's side. The muscle patches were pale and bright against his tan skin.

Contrast that with Dean, whose chest was notably  _not_ covered with scars and bruises. There was one lone scar, about five inches long, running across his belly. Other than that, it was practically pristine.

Sam caught me staring, and leaned forward, resting elbows on knees. With a smirk, he drawled, "See somethin' you like?" Then he waggled his eyebrows at me.

I couldn't stop myself from bursting out laughing. Dean, however, had a look of disgust on his face. "Dude! Gross!"

Sam shrugged and sat up, settling comfortably in the chair. "I was just asking. She looked interested."

Dean gagged, missing the wink Sam gave me.

The cocky attitude wiped off his face a second later as Dean poked around his shoulder. Sam hissed between his teeth, eyeing Dean with no small measure of distaste. "You know, it's a  _little fucking creepy_  having you examine me without  _your_  shirt on."

Without looking up, Dean lightly smacked Sam on the head, and continued checking him over. "This looks nasty, man. What hit you?"

Sam grunted, gripping the edge of the chair as Dean touched a particularly sore spot. "A tree. Don't worry...showed it who's boss." I half rose from my seat to help, but one reprimanding look from big brother put my butt right back down.

Cassie returned with the med kit, letting out a low whistle when she saw Sam. She set the kit on the table and opened it up, awaiting further direction. She didn't seem surprised by his injuries at all, and more than that, she didn't ask where they came from. The only explanation I could think of was that she knew what we did.

And  _this_  Cassie was okay with that.

Which earned points in my book.

There wasn't anything Dean could do about Sam's hurts - a wrenched shoulder and bruised side didn't warrant any treatment other than well wishes, and maybe an ice pack.

"Let's get some ice on you before we go, okay?" Dean glanced at Cassie, who quickly left again, pausing only to give Dean a soft kiss on the cheek.

Sam nodded and gingerly let go of the chair, glad to be out of the spotlight.

Dean turned to me, and before he could say anything, I interrupted. "I'm not taking my shirt off, so don't ask." He gave me an  _Oh No You Didn't_ look, but I waved him off, and simply it so he could see the stitches.

The slightly bloody bandages stopped him from whatever snarky retort he was about to make. "Oh, Katie…" Dean sighed, crouching down to take a closer look. He peeled back the tape and gauze, letting out another slow breath while dragging a hand down his face.

I squinted at him. "Sam's right - it  _is_ really creepy having you do this shirtless."

I got another look that shut me right up, but Sam snickered loudly. Cassie handed Sam his ice pack and came to stand by Dean, her eyes sad as he continued his exam. "They're  _sooo_ red." He glanced over his shoulder at Sam. "You did a great job on these." Sam gave him a  _No Shit_  look before Dean returned to me. "Maybe we should stay in." He pulled fresh gauze from the med kit and rewrapped the wound.

I rolled my eyes. "Dean - it's a few stitches. And I'm hungry. Go shower."

Green eyes swung up to meet mine. I could see the gears turning, so I cut him off. "Nuh-uh. Yes, they hurt. But I've been sitting in a car all day, and I just wanna visit and get food that isn't from a diner.  _Please_."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sam nod approvingly.  _Nice touch, saying please._

Thankfully, Cassie stepped in. "Dean, honey, if you want me to hang with you guys later, you need to give me the time you promised to work on my paper. You're going to dinner, not playing hockey." Dean stood up, an argument already on his lips, but she was ready for him. "Compromise! Pick up beer and some dessert on your way home, and we'll hang out here instead of going to the club, okay?"

I bit my lower lip, intrigued by the interaction between Dean and Cassie. He actually listened to her, nodding slowly, his lips pursed together. "Yeah, okay. You two just...wait here. I'll shower and we'll head out."

Sam and I had enough smarts to keep our mouths shut as Dean and Cassie walked away...Cassie winking at us just as they turned a corner and disappeared from view.

Sam sagged in his chair. "Well. That went better than I expected."

I nodded in agreement.

Then he leaned forward again, eyes intently watching me. "How do they feel, really?"

I shifted in my seat, taking stock of how I was doing. "Better. They hurt, and I'm definitely not ready to run a marathon, but I can get through dinner." I jutted my chin towards the oversized couch sitting in the living room. "Can't wait to plop my ass in that bad boy, though."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, that thing's fucking amazing." He gave me a sharp look. "And no, you can't sit in it while we wait for Dean to clean up. You'll never get back up again if you do."

I laughed. He was right - I slept the majority of the trip, so I wasn't tired, but I was eager to be comfortable. And that thing looked  _comfortable_.

Sam looked around the room, eyes locking on various items or spots where maybe he hid protection bags or wrote warding symbols. He murmured, "Gotta remember to grab that mojo bag we got in New Orleans. I know the perfect spot for it." I had no idea what bag this was, so I hoped that Sam wouldn't rely on my non-existent memory of it.

Before long, Dean returned, freshly dressed in jeans and a button down shirt (so very... _Sam)_  and we left for the restaurant.

Sam drove, with Dean giving directions to some new steakhouse in town that he said made amazing prime rib. He chattered about this and that, somehow managing to avoid asking about hunting. The restaurant was busy, but there were some empty pockets of tables. Our table, near the back, was in the middle of one of those pockets, thankfully.

The waitress came to take our drink order. Sam eyed her up and down, and once our orders were placed, he even leaned back in his chair, until it balanced on two legs, to watch her walk away.

Dean shook his head. "Christ, Sam. You're unbelievable."

Sam's chair thunked back on the floor. Face all innocent, he answered, "What? She's hot. And we're staying for a couple days." He shrugged. "Wouldn't hurt to have some non-family company."

Dean opened his menu with a huff, and began reading with a vengeance. "I live here, man, and Cassie loves this place. So no screwing with the wait staff and giving me a bad rep here."

Sam casually opened his menu. "Chill out, Dean. I'm sorry that my manhood offends your delicate side."

The eyeroll that followed could've popped Dean's eyeballs out of his sockets.

We ordered (Sam a steak, and Dean a grilled tuna salad), and relaxed into the homey atmosphere. Dean had this weird look on his face, and he toyed with his glass of wine, slowly spinning it this way and that on the table.

I put down my beer and took the plunge. "So...what's on your mind?"

Dean's eyes shot up to meet mine, his cheeks turning red. "What do you mean?"

Sam absently twirled his knife between his fingers. "You're on edge. What is it?"

Dean sighed, and pushed his glass towards the center of the table. "Okay. Look. I...took a job." His eyes darted between Sam and me, not sure what our reaction would be.

"That's great, Dean! Where?" I asked, all sincere and excited. Which I was. I just needed him to see it.

Dean licked his lips. "Topeka."

Oooh, that was about half an hour from Lawrence.

Sam raised an eyebrow and Dean sat up straight. "Hear me out, okay?"

Sam sighed. "Dean - we're happy for you. You don't have to explain why you took a job!"

Dean shook his head, needing to explain anyway. He looked at each of us, then pulled his wine glass close and kept his eyes on it. "Listen...I had offers in a few different states. I chose Topeka because...housing's cheap there. I mean, cheaper than the other cities I could've gone to. Cassie and I already started looking at places, and I can get a really good sized house, with land, for a good price."

Sam stiffened a little, but said nothing, so Dean plunged forward. "I know you don't want to give up hunting, okay? I don't like it, but Cassie keeps hammering at me that I can't make you quit if you don't want to." Sam snorted. "Shut up. I just...if I can't keep you safe by getting you out, then the least I can do is give you a home."

My eyes widened, as did Sam's. It was like chum in the water. Dean's speech tumbled out faster, enthusiasm evident in his voice, which no longer trembled. "Topeka is centrally located, which means you can stop on your way across the country, no matter what direction you're going. It's about five hours from Bobby, which isn't the best, but it's closer than the other places I was considering, and an easy drive in a pinch. There's an airport, and I can get a house with enough bedrooms and storage for kids  _and_ kid siblings." He paused to take a breath. "I'm gonna pop the question to Cassie...tonight. Once we get back."

Whoa…

"I wanted you guys there, because...being a part of this family is...well, it's an admission to the fucked up shit in this world. And if she's willing to be a part of that, she has to understand that you two come with the package."

Okay...first off, Dean getting married floored me. Second off, it was interesting how Dad was nowhere in this equation, and Sam never brought him up. Third... _Dean's getting married._

I almost asked if Cassie was pregnant, but I figured this Dean wouldn't take kindly to that question.

I looked to Sam for some direction on how to respond. Last thing I needed was to do the wrong thing. This moment was too important. Sam kept his eyes on his beer bottle for several seconds, before raising his eyes to mine. He liked this plan. A lot. It was in his eyes, plain as day. I grinned at him. He grinned back.

"Well? You gonna say anything or leave me hanging?" Dean bit out in frustration.

I took this one. "How long did it take you to compose that speech?"

Dean blinked at me. "Minutes."

I nodded approvingly. "Well worth it, right Sam?"

Sam nodded as well. "Absolutely. Tuition well spent."

Dean let out an explosive breath. "Fuck, I thought you'd be so pissed."

Sam shook his head. "No...it's...it's more than we could've asked for. Really. Just...you're gonna ask her tonight? In front of us?"

Dean nodded and began peeling the label off my beer bottle.

"You sure about that? I mean, what if she dumps your pretty ass right then and there?"

He kept peeling. "She won't." Now the peeling stopped, and he met Sam's gaze. "I dunno why, but she loves me. She loves you both, too. She won't leave."

Sam clapped Dean on the shoulder. "Congratulations, man. Let's get another beer to celebrate!"

**xxxxx**

Dean talked the entire time we ate, and it continued in the car, on the ride back to his apartment. "This one house even has what they call a mother-in-law apartment attached, where it's like a separate apartment, with its own door outside and a bathroom, so you could come and go as you please without worrying about us."

I sat in the back, next to a few six-packs, two bottles of wine, and a fresh chocolate cream pie, smiling at Dean's babbling. I couldn't believe the sheer excitement in his voice at something not involving cars, women, or hunting.

It was awesome.

We parked the Impala and hauled our loot upstairs. I was full, happy, and enjoying myself. If this fucking spell made me leave before Dean proposed, Uriel would get an extra stab in the gut out of sheer spite.

The living room was dark when we got inside. Dean flicked a light switch on the wall. "Cassie! We're home!" He placed the pie and wine on the table, then removed his jacket. "She usually works in the office with headphones on. I'll be right back." He flashed us a nervous grin, to which Sam answered with a thumbs up.

As soon as he left, Sam turned to me. "I don't even know what to say."

Dropping onto that couch, I rolled my head from side to side and carefully stretched. "There's nothing to say, Sam. He's happy. And it's nice to see him happy."

He plopped next to me, lifting his arm so I could lean on him, and pressed a kiss to my head. "I know. I just...I think I'm still in shock. That was a lot to take in, you know?"

I nodded in agreement, settling more comfortably against him.

We sat, breathing in tandem, lost in our own thoughts. I must've been pretty lost, because it took me a little bit longer than Sam to smell it.

"Is that... _sulfur?_ " Before we could leap off the couch, Dean's screams pierced the air, sending goosebumps down my arms and back. Sam was down the hall in a flash, with me right behind, barreling into the room at the end of the back hallway. I froze for a second, horror stricken at the sight before me.

Dean was scrambling to reach the ceiling, where Cassie was pinned, blood dripping from slashes across her midsection. Her expression was frozen in one of amazement, increasing the terror level in her frantic boyfriend.

Sam grabbed Dean and threw him to the ground, covering Dean's body with his own, just as the ceiling erupted in flames. Stumbling a couple steps backwards and throwing my hands in front of my face in a lame effort to ward off the heat blast, I tore my eyes off Cassie, a sick feeling spreading from my stomach as it sunk in that I was going through  _this whole fucking nightmare again_.

Forcing my way back  _into_ the room, I helped Sam drag Dean  _out_  of the room. He continued to shriek Cassie's name, fighting us with every ounce of strength he had in an effort to reach her.

Sam shouted  _Dean's_  name, I shouted Dean  _and_  Sam's names,  _Dean kept screaming_.

By the time we got him through the doorway, Cassie's body was completely engulfed, obscured by smoke and flames, the blinding bursts of light forcing Dean to avert his eyes from his burning girlfriend. As soon as she disappeared from sight, Dean slumped against me, arms around my neck, sobbing hysterically. The unexpected weight almost pulled me to the ground, but Sam was there, hoisting Dean from under his arms, and half carrying him to the front door...which was blocked by a creepy looking man.

The mystery person, who was almost definitely  _not_  a person, wore a long, black coat, whose collar was turned up, framing his face and adding to the creepy factor. We stopped cold, dread filling us, as we watched his eyes flicker yellow.

Okay... _this_  didn't happen when we rescued Sam...

He smiled and shook his head. "You have to understand. I need all my Winchesters out in the field, playing the game, fighting the fight. It's the only way."

Then the bastard took a step closer.

Sam tapped my shoulder, telling me to hold onto Dean, just before stepping in front, shielding us. Eyes blazing, Sam straightened to his full height, hands clenched at his side, wordlessly daring the Demon to try something.

I was expecting Dean to launch himself at the asshole, but he didn't. Instead, his hand tightened around my arm, and his stance shifted so that I could be easily pushed out of harms way if necessary. I gripped him back, letting him know that i _n no fucking way_  would I be tossed aside.

The Demon flapped his hand at us, in this patronizing, dismissive way. "Stand down, Sam. I'm not going to hurt you." He casually glanced around the room, almost sadly, and sighed. "Give my regards to your father."

Then he was gone.

**xxxxx**

The next couple hours passed in a haze. Questions from the fire department, the police, neighbors, doctors...all repetitive, none of them focused on the sheer grief radiating from Dean, who, for the most part, sat huddled in a blanket, on the hood of the Impala. One hand rested flat against her skin, allowing Dean to draw strength from his second home.

I had just finished answering questions from a med tech, who wanted to make sure we were okay before she packed up her equipment. She gave me a prescription for sedatives, in case Dean needed them. I knew he  _needed_  them, I just didn't know if he'd  _take_  them.

I watched Sam walk towards me, jaw set and eyes hard. Everyone moved out of his way as he passed through the crowd, not wanting to tangle with him. His presence was commanding, and it was clear that in order to reach Dean, you had to go through him - no matter who you were.

He held up his phone as he approached. "No answer from Dad. Bobby told us to go to his place as soon as we're done here, but I'm not even sure how long that'll be." His tone was clipped, barely containing the emotions I knew were swirling inside.

Behind him, the fire department wound up their hoses and repacked their equipment. The apartment building was still standing, but the apartment itself was completely destroyed. Dean's neighbors were still milling around on the lawn, unable to return to their homes. They kept taking turns staring at Dean, wanting to offer their sympathies, but unwilling to cross Sam to do so.

Sam begged me to handle communicating with their friends. He would handle anyone who became annoying, but only Sam knew the definition of 'annoying', curtly dismissing people when they crossed whatever imaginary line he drew around us. He was on the highest alert, thankfully able to grab the weapons on our way out of the apartment the second the Demon disappeared, and stash them back in the trunk soon after we stumbled out the front door.

We had bottled holy water in our pockets, and were ready to spit out an exorcism should the need arise. Tension was high as more people gathered around us. Between the emergency responders, neighbors, and friends, it was practically impossible to determine if demons were prowling around. We obsessively checked for possession as subtly as possible, Dean always in sight, if not within reach.

Sam sighed and glared at his phone. "Maybe Dad'll call before we have to leave. I dunno. He fucking better."

All I could do was nod in response. The memories of Jess's death resurfaced, fresh and raw, now compounded by Dean's grief. I rubbed at my eyes, feeling very, very tired. "I already called Cassie's sister. She said she'd take care of informing her parents and the rest of her family. I'm sure Dean will start getting phone calls soon."

Sam made an  _Aw, Shit_  face, and scrubbed his hands over his face.

I placed a hand on his arm and gently squeezed. "I'll take care of it, Sam. Don't worry. Right now, we need a motel room...get him cleaned up and into bed." We both snuck a peek at Dean, who hadn't moved off the Impala. His eyes were hooded and vacant, and he didn't so much as flinch when a med tech took his blood pressure.

Sam sighed again. "Yeah...we have the emergency duffel in the trunk, so at least we have some clean clothes and supplies. Let's get a room and take care of him...then figure out what to do next."

We pushed through a couple of people trying to get a look at Dean. They scrambled away after Sam glared at them.

Dean raised his eyes to mine as I approached.

Blinking back my own tears, I whispered, "Hey there…," as I reached out to touch his cheek.

Surprisingly, he let me, closing his eyes and pressing against my hand. "Hey…," he whispered back.

Sam patted Dean's knee. "We're going to a motel, okay?"

Dean silently nodded, eyes back on mine, wordlessly begging me to convince him that this wasn't happening.

_Believe me, big brother, I want to, but I can't._

Dean sighed, and slid off the roof, letting the blanket fall from his shoulders as he sat in the back seat of the Impala. I shared a look with Sam before climbing in next to him, letting him crumble against me as we pulled away from his smoldering home.

**xxxxx**

Keeping with the thread of events, Sam somehow chose the exact same motel Dean did when Jess died. It wasn't the same room, but it was next door. Dean sat very still on the bed farthest from the window while Sam and I warded the room. His eyes were rooted on the floor, and he said nothing. The crying in the car wiped him out, and I was pretty sure I could get him to take some pills and crawl into bed once he took a shower.

When the room was safe, Sam opened the emergency duffel bag and pulled out clothing. He glanced at Dean before turning to me. "Kate...you shower first, okay?"

Nodding slowly, I took the clothes from him, squeezing his hand as it came in contact with mine. He smiled this sad little smile, telling me that he wanted a few minutes alone with his brother.

I nodded again, returning that smile, and went into the bathroom.

Sam knew that Dean would share a bed with me, and he'd curl up into a ball, needing to be held and coddled a bit. Not exactly what brothers do for each other. So a few minutes alone while I showered, would give him the opportunity to share his grief, before diving full tilt into revenge mode.

I undressed, unbandaged, and welcomed the hot spray on my skin. I knew I had to be mindful of how much hot water I used, but I also wanted to give them some time alone. I splayed my hands against the pale blue tile, and closed my eyes, feeling every single drop of water hit, losing myself in the sensation.

After what I hoped wasn't too long, I turned off the water, dried off and dressed. It's not that I dreaded facing Dean, I just dreaded facing his grief, and facing this tragedy  _again_.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and stepped back into the room...where Dad was sitting at a table with Adam labeling parts of a map, and no sign of Sam or Dean at all.

**XXXXxxxx TBC xxxxXXXX**


	12. Chapter 12

_**Previously, on Quantum AU…** _

When the room was safe, Sam opened the emergency duffel bag and pulled out clothing. He glanced at Dean before turning to me. "Kate...you shower first, okay?"

Nodding slowly, I took the clothes from him, squeezing his hand as it came in contact with mine. He smiled this sad little smile, telling me that he wanted a few minutes alone with his brother.

I nodded again, returning that smile, and went into the bathroom.

Sam knew that Dean would share a bed with me, and he'd curl up into a ball, needing to be held and coddled a bit. Not exactly what brothers do for each other. So a few minutes alone while I showered, would give him the opportunity to share his grief, before diving full tilt into revenge mode.

I undressed, unbandaged, and welcomed the hot spray on my skin. I knew I had to be mindful of how much hot water I used, but I also wanted to give them some time alone. I splayed my hands against the pale blue tile, and closed my eyes, feeling every single drop of water hit, losing myself in the sensation.

After what I hoped wasn't too long, I turned off the water, dried off and dressed. It's not that I dreaded facing Dean, I just dreaded facing his grief, and facing this tragedy  _again_.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and stepped back into the room...where Dad was sitting at a table with Adam labeling parts of a map, and no sign of Sam or Dean at all.

**XXXXX**

_**Now…** _

Um…

I turned around and looked behind me...yep, okay, there's the bathroom. I looked down at my hands, which were full of my clothes which...yep...smelled like smoke.

"You okay, Kate? You look all confused."

_Well, if it walks like a duck…_

"Uh...no...I mean…" I turned around again. Yep, there's the bathroom. Great, so now I can shift while awake. And naked. This keeps getting better.

Adam shook his head at me. "Maybe she inhaled too much smoke."

Maybe I did.

Thunder boomed, rattling the windows and my teeth, making me jump and reach for a nonexistent weapon that was nonexistently tucked into my sweat pants, dropping my clothes in the process.

Dad laughed and folded up the map. "It's okay - just that thunderstorm finally rolling into town." He tucked the map into a nice backpack - the kind you get from an up-do outdoor supply shop.

Something wasn't right. Okay, nothing in this whole fucking spell was right, but I meant with Dad. It was Dad, but...he looked relaxed. At ease. Which was so  _not_  Dad. Not  _my_  dad.  _Goddammit_.

"Go put your clothes in the laundry bag. We figured out where we're heading next."

"Yeah?" I asked, searching the room for this laundry bag, and only finding it when Adam pointed at a red mesh bag sitting in a corner. "Where's the next hunt?"

Dad and Adam exchanged a look.  _Aw, crap._  "Since when do you want to go hunting?" Dad asked, face all scrunched up like I just asked him...um...to go hunting when obviously we don't hunt. In any sense of the word. "What happened to animal rights, and the evils of eating meat?"

Evils of…?

"Right. I meant...the next hunt for adventure! Where are we going?"  _Smooooooth_ , Winchester.

Adam sat down on a bed and rubbed the back of his neck. "We were thinking of heading into South Dakota."

"To visit Bobby?" I still sucked at this. Shit kept popping out of my mouth before I could stop myself.

"Bobby who? Is that one of your Facebook friends?" Dad asked, hands on hips and looking,  _holy shit,_  like such a Dad.

Adam got this tight look on his face and turned away.

What the fuck is Facebook? "No, he's...no one important. Nevermind. I'm tired. I'm not making sense. Maybe I did inhale too much smoke." Speaking of which, how the hell did I get covered in smoke if I didn't just watch Dean's life shatter into a million pieces and this reality didn't just burn someone's bones?

Adam muttered, "Only you would breathe in too much smoke at a fricking bonfire."

Bonfire? A "for fun" fire?  _Huh_...

"Yeah, well, you know me."

Dad laughed and came over to ruffle my wet hair. "I'm gonna take a shower. Why don't you guys start some laundry then see if you can find a movie on this ancient box. Next stop won't be so rustic, I promise." He picked up a toiletry bag and some clean clothes, then headed into the bathroom.

I slowly let out a breath. I'd been ready to crawl into bed with a broken brother, and now I was doing laundry with Adam with no fucking information on Sam and Dean. After the Bobby misspeak, I knew I couldn't ask anything, so I hoped some information would present itself.

Adam hefted the laundry bag over his shoulder, grunting as the bulk hit him in the back. I grabbed the bottle of laundry soap off the floor. "Hold on - I'm coming," I said, slipping into some girly-looking tennis shoes and following him out of the room.

Rain was starting to fall, pelting the cars and making gentle tapping noises. Adam silently led the way past other rooms, then stopped at the edge of the sidewalk. "Ready?" He asked over his shoulder. Without waiting for an answer, he jogged across the lot to another building, which looked like it'd seen better days. By the time I caught up with him, he'd unlocked the door and entered.

"Turn on the light, would ya?" He asked, dropping the laundry bag on an enormous table in the middle of the room.

I found the switch next to the door, and flipped it, watching a few florescent bulbs flicker to life. The room was cold and drafty, with three washers and three dryers lining one wall. The floor was concrete, and cracked in several spots.

Adam sniffed loudly, and started sorting laundry. I walked over and helped, stealing glances at him as we worked. Where Dad had a relaxed, easy look, Adam was the opposite. His lips were pressed together, like they were holding something inside that he refused to release. Under his eyes were dark smudges, accenting the drooping lids and worry lines. There was tension in his shoulders, and he just seemed on edge.

Something was going on. My baby brother was usually a chatterbox, telling me everything and anything on his mind. This Adam said very little, and almost looked like he'd rather be anywhere but with me. Was this Kate a bitch? Christ, I hoped not.

Once everything was sorted, Adam reached into his pocket and dug out a handful of quarters. I poured the soap, and we got the machines started. He stood there a moment, jingling the remaining coins in his hand, like he was contemplating what to do next.

"Should we wait here for the wash cycle to finish or go back to the room?" I asked softly, feeling like he needed to make that call.

He glanced at me, then shoved the coins back in his jeans. "Doesn't matter." He shuffled to a window and leaned against it, staring at the now downpour outside.

I guess we're staying here.

I wiped a dribble of soap off the bottle and rinsed my hands in the rusty utility sink. I didn't have a book to read or apparently anyone to talk to, so I joined Adam at the window and watched the rain.

There's definitely something cathartic about rain watching. The seemingly neverending droplets can't be individually tracked, like snowflakes gently floating downward. But you  _can_  watch its effect on various objects, like making even the dullest surface glisten. Soon, it was easy to see where the parking lot dipped and curved, as puddles formed, filling in gaps and holes in the pavement.

Beside me, Adam shivered, and wrapped his arms around himself. After making sure I had a t-shirt underneath, I pulled my sweatshirt off and handed it over. "Here...wear this."

He took it, then stared at it, not knowing what to do.

_Yeesh_. "You shivered, which generally means you're cold. If you put this on, the cold factor usually goes away." I'm so clever with words.

Maybe too clever, because Adam just blinked at me, then down at the shirt, and back up to me. I sighed. "Adam - put it on. You have goosebumps all over your arms." Before he could move, I vigorously rubbed up and down his arms, trying to speed up the warming process.

His mouth opened, then clamped shut. Then opened again as he sneezed off to the side.

"Yeah, put the damn thing on.  _Now_. And maybe say something, because I'm starting to feel weird." I widened the neck-hole and helped him pull it over his head. He shivered again, while I pulled it down. He still looked confused. "And now  _you_  look like the one who doesn't know what's going on."

He huffed at that and returned to staring out the window. "Sorry...just don't feel like talking." He rested his head against the frame and sighed.

_What the hell…_

"Okay. That's...okay." I dropped it, and we went back to rain watching.

**xxxxx**

The loads finally finished, and let me tell you, this felt like the longest half hour of my life. I was itching to hold him, talk with him,  _some_ thing, but all I got was a giant wall of nothing. I had to get Dad alone somehow and figure out what was going on in Adam's head.

The rain slowed somewhat, and we only got mildly wet on the way back to the room. Dad was there, waiting for us on the couch, reading a book. Wearing...glasses. He peered at us over the rims, looking even more like a Dad who waited up for his partying kids. "Hey there - laundry all set?"

Adam took the soap from me and placed it on the table. "Waited for the washers to finish so we could get everything in the dryer before someone else showed up."

Dad nodded and placed a bookmark to mark his spot. Standing, he stretched and took off his glasses which actually looked like reading glasses instead of regular ones. "We'll grab the laundry in the morning. There really isn't much on TV, but feel free to channel surf. I think I'm going to turn in so we can get on the road right away." To emphasize his point, he let out an enormous yawn.

I smiled at him, liking how Dad-like he was. It was a mixed bag, though...wishing my Dad was more like this, but knowing that my Dad wouldn't be  _my Dad_  if he  _were_  like this. I guess I just want my family happy, and not dealing with, I dunno, stupid shit like angel spells.

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna crash, too." Adam emptied the quarters from his pockets onto the table, then headed to the couch. A folded blanket sat under a pillow on one side, which he quietly unfolded and settled under.

I guessed I was in the bed solo, which was definitely weird. Two beds and three people always meant someone shared. Two beds and four people meant someone got the couch.

Then again, this appeared to be a normal family situation, not a my-Winchester fucked up family situation. Teenage siblings didn't share beds.

As Adam rolled away from us, I heard Dad sigh behind me. I turned, eyebrows raised in a question. He shook his head sadly, gave me a kiss on the forehead, and simply said, " 'Night, sweetheart."

**xxxxx**

Let me be clear - I've been trained to wake at the slightest noise. Well, unless I'm shitfaced drunk, in which case, it may need to be a slightly  _louder_  noise. I'm pretty good. Maybe not as good as Dean, but still pretty good. Especially when it comes to something being wrong with one of my boys.

Apparently, in someone else's body, training conflicts with circumstances. Or maybe I'm just mentally exhausted from this whole thing.

Either way, I somehow missed the signs Dad waking up and getting dressed, and Adam coughing on the couch. When I finally figured out something was wrong, Dad had his coat on and was hunting (ha) for something in his bags.

"Hey…" I said, my voice sounding as groggy as my head felt. "What's up?" It was still dark outside, with intermittent lightning flashes and thunder booming. I crawled out of bed and headed over, peering at Adam on the way.

In a low voice, Dad muttered, "Where the hell did my keys go?" He glanced up at me, then at Adam, before sighing. "He's got a fever. Gonna go pick up some Tylenol or something from that grocery store. Didn't want to wake you."

I spotted the keys on his bed, peeking out from under the sheet. I leaned over and snagged them. "Need these?" I asked with a small smile. Worry for Adam hit me like a brick. I couldn't believe we didn't have a med kit on hand.

Then again...why would  _we_  need one?

"Oh for...thanks." He took them from me and gave me a grim smile. His eyes flickered to Adam for a second before he gestured with his head for me to follow him outside.

I held the door mostly closed with my foot while folding my arms across my body for warmth. Dad's face lit up with the lightning, which would've made him look forbidding in my reality, but here, all I could see was worry.

"I should've been more prepared for this. He's still so strung out...getting sick was inevitable. I just thought…" He paused to sigh and rub at his eyes. "I thought this trip would relax him, you know? Help him cope, help us heal, help us connect." He shook his head sadly. "It's been a few weeks, and he still hasn't really accepted that she's gone. I know what you're gonna say."  _Pretty sure you don't, Dad._  "The therapist said he needed time, and that this trip would be good for him, but…" He shook his head again, tears in his eyes.

I had enough of the picture, now, so I figured it was safe to say something. I put my hand on his arm and squeezed. "It  _is_  good for him...good for all of us. You're not doing anything wrong." Winchester guilt must also span time and space.

Dad nodded, pulling me close into a John Winchester hug. He kissed the top of my head, then rested his cheek against it. "I love you both so very much. I miss her too, but I'm thankful I still have him."

I hugged him back, letting go when I heard Adam coughing again. "Go to the store. I'll watch him."

Dad nodded, poking me on the nose before leaving, a grateful smile on his face.

As he pulled away in...uh... _not the Impala_  (What the hell? Where was she?) I went back inside and let the door click shut, studying my brother from across the room, pieces of this puzzle finally fitting together. Not only did I have to rewatch a brother lose the love of his life, I also had to rewatch this brother lose his mom.

I fuckng  _hate_  Uriel.

I padded over to the couch and sat next to Adam, who had taken off the sweatshirt I gave him, and now lay huddled under a blanket. His eyes were closed, but pinched shut in discomfort. Another flash of lightning revealed the flush on his cheeks and sweat on his forehead. Reaching out, I ran my fingers through his damp hair. His eyes fluttered open and he mumbled, "Mom?"

I bit my lip. This kid knew how to break my heart. "It's Kate...c'mon, let's get you on the bed, okay?"

He blinked at me confused, then reality set in and he sort of deflated, turning away and mumbling, " 'M fine here."

I adore stubborn brothers. "No, you're not. You barely fit on this thing, the pillow's wet, and I can't sit with you here. Time to move, Adam." I didn't care if I wasn't acting like his Kate. I knew what needed to be done, having done this a thousand times before, and he just needed to fucking fall in line.

He sighed miserably, torn between wanting to be comfortable and wanting to be left alone. Sorry, you can't have everything when you're sick and hurting.

To help emphasize the seriousness of my orders, I pulled the blanket off him, making him shiver violently at the meager heat loss. He glared at me for removing the one barrier between us.

"I know - you can hate me later. Get in my bed." Without waiting for a response or to see if he'd actually comply, I got up and went to the bathroom for a wet washcloth. I slowly picked one out and wet it down, knowing that he'd need a minute to argue with himself before finally giving in. Sure enough, by the time I got back to the bed, he was in it, struggling to put that sweatshirt back on.

I shook my head at him, setting the cloth on the little nightstand. "No can do - you need to get warm, but a sweatshirt is a bad idea." I took it from him, grimacing at the dampness. "Besides, it's full of sweat and hopefully nothing else." He snorted at that. "We washed a couple, so I'll check later to see if they're dry. If your fever goes down, you can put one on."

The sweatshirt got tossed onto the couch, out of reach. Adam sighed and scrubbed his face. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn't. Instead, he huddled into the blankets and turned towards the window. I sighed back and crawled into bed, which startled him. I gave him a  _Shut Up_  look, and picked up the damp washcloth.

Positioning myself so I faced him, I folded the cloth carefully, wanting it to fit on his forehead. He eyed me warily, I rolled mine back at him, then placed my palm against his forehead and cheek. They were a lot warmer than I was comfortable with. Adam didn't move, instead watching me intently, his face a mixture of  _Please Help Me_  and  _Please Go Away_.

I went with the former.

I set the cloth against his burning face, and watched him close his eyes and sigh in relief. He still stayed silent, but at least I knew this was helping. Needing to do more, I scooted until I lay on my side, threading my fingers through his hair. He shivered, which may not have been entirely because of his fever, but I moved closer anyway, letting him know I was there, and not leaving.

When he took a shuddering breath and reached out to grip my hand, I knew what was coming. I rolled onto my back and lifted an arm. Without missing a beat, he slid against me, curling into a ball, face pressed into my neck.

He replaced my hand with my shirt, twisting the fabric around his fist, preferring to mangle my clothing than me. I held him close, keeping the cool cloth on his skin as I rubbed up and down his back. There were tears - I felt them drip down my neck and onto my shirt - but he refused to just let loose. This Adam needed to be more in control. Tears rolled down my cheeks as well, and I wondered, yet again, how many times I would have to comfort a grieving brother.

Adam's breathing slowly got under control, and the death-grip on my shirt lessened somewhat. He stayed in my arms, not even flinching when Dad's key sounded in the lock. All he did was bury his face further, so he was hidden. But he didn't roll away.

There was a pause at the door, then keys jangled onto the table and a jacket was unzipped. A paper bag crinkled, and I heard a box being ripped into. After a little more putzing around, Dad came over and sat next to us, a glass of water in one hand, a couple pills in the other. His eyes met mine.

_Thank you._

I smiled back.

We got Adam to take some Tylenol, and soon after, he fell asleep. Dad stayed with us, one hand on Adam's shoulder, eyes locked on his sick child. Once he was sure Adam had passed out, he patted his shoulder, kissed me on the head, then went to bed.

I lay there, reflecting on each shift I'd gone through. Granted, some I reflected on less than others (like I wanted to relive being shot or hit with a frying pan), but I tried to focus on what I did while there. Did my presence make things worse? What happened once I left and that Kate came back, with no memory of what had taken place?

Was comforting Adam something this Kate would've done? Will she return before he wakes, and freak out because he's close to her? Would that set him back?

The fact that I would never have those answers bothered me. It was so hard trying to act like what was expected and still be myself, who, like in this situation, knew what was needed to make the things better. Was that the right thing to do? Should I follow my gut in something like this or let the train wreck happen?

Adam coughed softly, and curled closer, prompting me to shift a little and wrap both arms around him.

Why even bother asking? When it came to my brothers, there was no line. There was no limit to what I'd do to help them. If that meant going against protocol, and offering comfort when needed, I'd offer the comfort.

I wasn't sure what lesson Uriel expected me to learn from all this. The only thing I learned was how powerful my love for my family truly was, and I figured that would come to bite the angel in the ass someday.

**xxxxx**

Adam's fever must have risen, because he was a fucking furnace next to me. I could feel the heat radiating off him, and while part of me wanted to shove him away, the smart part of me remembered why he was there in the first place, so I laid still and dealt with it.

Until the screaming started.

Then I figured,  _hey_ , I should probably move and investigate.

I opened my eyes, and yelped. Guess what? Yeah - shifted again.

Everything was red, everything was burning, everything was loud. My skin was on fire, even though no flames touched me. Corpses riddled the bleak landscape, piled high as far as I could see. People, or what I assumed were people, crawled over them, arms outstretched, moaning and appealing to me for help.

I stumbled back a step, and bumped against something that growled. Slowly turning around, I found myself face to face with a dog.

A huge dog.

A really huge dog with glowing red eyes and fur that shimmered like smoldering coal.

It was a Hellhound. Which meant…

_Aw, fuck._

**XXXXxxxx TBC xxxxXXXX**


	13. Chapter 13

_**Previously, in Quantum AU…** _

Adam's fever must have risen, because he was a fucking furnace next to me. I could feel the heat radiating off him, and while part of me wanted to shove him away, the smart part of me remembered why he was there in the first place, so I laid still and dealt with it.

Until the screaming started.

Then I figured, _hey_ , I should probably move and investigate.

I opened my eyes, and yelped. Guess what? Yeah - shifted again.

Everything was red, everything was burning, everything was loud. My skin was on fire, even though no flames touched me. Corpses riddled the bleak landscape, piled high as far as I could see. People, or what I assumed were people, crawled over them, arms outstretched, moaning and appealing to me for help.

I stumbled back a step, and bumped against something that growled. Slowly turning around, I found myself face to face with a dog.

A huge dog.

A really huge dog with glowing red eyes and fur that shimmered like smoldering coal.

It was a Hellhound. Which meant…

_Aw, fuck._

**XXXXX**

_**Now…** _

I swallowed and carefully took a step back, resisting the urge to say something stupid like, "Nice, Doggie". After two steps, I realized I was now moving closer to the creepy people crawling over the corpsey landscape. The hound crouched down, and…

...whined. It _whined_ at me, inching closer and nuzzling my hand with its head, which I believe should've hurt or something, because watching that fur shimmer was like watching fire burn.

But it didn't hurt at all. In fact, its fur felt cool and soft.

Figuring I had nothing to lose (I _was_ in Hell after all), I cautiously reached out and buried my hand in its neck. It lowered its head, and as I rubbed and scratched its neck, one of the back legs began to twitch, thumping loudly against...against a couple skulls and I think, a femur.

"She likes you."

I jumped at the voice - partly because I really wasn't expecting to interact with another person, and partly because... _it was Sam_.

"It's interesting that she isn't reacting to the fact that you aren't who you appear to be...I suppose she doesn't know that your consciousness doesn't belong in this body." Sam stepped closer, absently kicking at a person who managed to crawl close. He held out a hand, which the hound licked and rubbed against, requesting more petting and attention.

This... _guy?_... _looked_ like Sam. He _sounded_ like Sam. But this _wasn't_ Sam. It _couldn't_ be. He was just a tad…

"Off? I know...I can't really duplicate the angst he produces. It's not so much an ability thing, I just don't have the stomach for it. Besides, why pretend to be someone else? It's been forever since I was just...free to be myself."

He didn't make eye contact, instead focusing his attention on the hound and her reactions to his affection. I looked around wildly for some means of escape. Which is stupid because, right, _Hell_.

Sam straightened and looked me in the eye. "Do you know who I am?"

I shook my head wordlessly, unable to answer. Swallowing heavily, I stepped back again, clutching the hem of my shirt just so my hands had something to do.

He smiled a little, putting his hands in his pockets. "I _can_ read your mind, you know, and I think you're wrong. I think you know _exactly_ who I am. You just won't admit it."

No matter how much I wanted to, I could not take my eyes off him. I licked my lips and took a shaky breath. He was just a story, wasn't he? But then again...angels were real...and he _is_ an…

_Fuck_.

He chuckled. "I prefer the name Lucifer, please. Satan is a ridiculous name you humans came up with, which really isn't very flattering. But enough about me. I'm _so curious_ about _you_." He took a step closer, and cold dread filled my chest. "Another reality...an alternate timeline...that intrigues me. Uriel must have called in many favors to pull this off."

He stopped right in front of me, eyes boring into mine. All I was capable of doing, was staring back at him. I couldn't speak; I could barely think.

"And I wonder," he murmured, "...could another tag along for the ride?" He reached out and caressed my cheek. My eyes shut tight, terrified of the evil inside my brother's eyes.

"Honey? Tell me what you think!"

They snapped open, and there was Jess, grinning and twirling around, a black leather jacket clinging to her slim frame. The price tag swung around behind her, trying to keep up with the blonde's movements. Gaping, all I could do was frantically look every which way, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.

We were in a store, at a mall, apparently trying on clothes, and _hold on a second.._.did she call _me_ honey?

I turned around again, thinking Sam was behind me somewhere...preferably a Sam who wasn't fucking housing _fucking Lucifer_ inside him.

No Sam.

"What are you looking for, babe?" Jess asked, curiosity and amusement in her voice. She came over, standing next to me, and looking around the store as well.

"I...um…" No Satan, no hellhound, just a mall, which is really just another form of Hell anyway. And now she called me _babe_?

Jess giggled and kissed me on the cheek. "You crack me the hell up." She took the jacket off, set it back on a hanger, and placed it on a rack. "C'mon, the boys are probably ready to go." She glanced at her watch. "We can grab an early dinner and then...you know...have some alone time." She waggled her eyebrows at me, and rubbed her nose against mine.

Oh. Oh, wow. I honestly had no idea what to say. I had no idea what to think. _She was so close_.

Jess grabbed my arm and dragged me from the store, chattering the whole way. "I heard Dean say we had to be at Bobby's tomorrow. He has some info on a huge vamp nest, so I get to finally use machetes! Soooo excited!" She fake squealed, then rolled her eyes, making me laugh. I couldn't help it - it was funny.

My laughter egged her on. She turned suddenly, facing me, arms around my neck, stopping us in the middle of the walkway. She leaned in, murmuring, "You know, it's a good thing Sam introduced us, or I'd still be with that asshole Brady." What was everyone's problem with Brady?

Why was _that_ the question on my mind when Jess's mouth was practically on top of mine?

In my ear, she whispered, "I think that later, I need to show you how good it is."

Then came the kiss, full on, right there, holy shit, _in a mall_. Now, I'm pretty fucking liberal, and so the concept of a girl kissing me wasn't something that made me recoil. _My brother's dead girlfriend_ lip locking me outside a Gap was something else entirely.

I couldn't watch...it was a bit... _uncomfortable_. But then I figured, if I close my eyes, I might shift.

Was that a bad thing? Better than being in Hell.

So closed it was, and I let the kiss happen.

When I opened them, Jess pulled away, winking, and went back to pulling me through the crowds.

_Goddammit_. _Didn't work._

"Kate!"

I turned towards Dean's voice, more than a little thankful for the distraction. When I turned around, I was in a motel room, Dean in a bed across the room. He lay sprawled on top of the blankets, sweating and shivering.

_Or it did…?_

"C-can you...g-get my b-bag?" He licked his lips and struggled to sit, lips pressed together as a cough escaped.

What the fuck?

"K-kate?" He called out, sharply.

Fuck...okay. rapid-fire shifting. I could do this, right? I mean...I could, couldn't I?

"Yeah...yeah, hold on." Sick Dean - I can handle sick Dean any day of the _what the fuck is going on with my skin?_

I bent down to pick up what I assumed was Dean's bag, when I suddenly became aware of a zillion ants crawling all over my body. A quick, semi-freaked out body check revealed no bugs whatsoever, but I did feel like I just ran a marathon, and seriously, my skin just _crawled_.

It took two tries for me to grip the handles and haul the bag to Dean's bed. They kept slipping through my fingers, which wouldn't cooperate when I told them to curl around the leather straps. Success occurred on the third try, and I staggered to the bed with the prize. I collapsed next to him, hugging myself for warmth and as a constant reminder that there were no bugs on my skin.

What _is_ this?

Panting heavily, Dean struggled to unzip the bag and dig through it.

Sweat dripped down my face and into my eyes, startling me. As I wiped at the stream, I asked, in a very shaky voice, "Are we cursed?"

Dean let out a derisive bark, followed by a triumphant, "Yes!" He held up a toiletry bag.

So...three cheers for a shaving kit?

My sarcasm faded when he took out two hypodermic needles and a vial. My mouth dropped open a little.

"C'mon...w-we need the hit b-before Dad g-gets back…"

Head swimming and stomach churning, I nervously licked my lips and scooted away from him. I looked around the room for...I had no clue...anything else to look at besides Dean loading up those needles. The head movement set off a dizzy spell, and before I could stop myself, I slid off the bed and onto the floor.

I landed with a very uncomfortable thump, yelping in pain. The second my ass hit the ground, I was sitting at a dining room table, a cup of coffee and a generous slice of chocolate cake in front of me. Mary Winchester and my mom, Sarah, were sitting opposite of me.

"- and we know it can be an adjustment," Mary was saying as she stirred her coffee, "but you'll get used to it."

"And you can peek down there any time you want! Just know that it's probably better to wait a while before doing that. It can be a bit depressing to stare at the living, knowing that you can't be there with them," my mom chimed in, pushing the cake closer to me.

Mary nodded and took a sip of coffee. "But we know you'll miss the boys and John, so we know you'll want to watch. Just take one of us with you, ok?"

Judging from their staring, I must've had quite the look on my face.

"Kate?" My mom asked, her face wrinkled up with worry. "Are you okay?"

Mary sighed, replacing her cup on the saucer. "I think she's in shock, Sarah."

"Should we call Samandriel? He's so good at helping souls adjust."

"Maybe…"

I rubbed at my eyes and scrunched them shut. _Maybe…_

"You playin' hide and seek at the age of sixteen?"

_Bobby!_

My eyes snapped open and after making sure he was really there, and not trying to kill me, I launched myself into his arms holding on like my life depended on it.

Which it did.

Not to mention my sanity.

"Whoa, missy! What's wrong?"

"You wouldn't believe it!" I was practically yelling into his shirt, panic ripping through me as I felt his beard scratch my cheek. _I can't lose this!_

"Bobby? What's wrong with Kate?"

"I dunno, Karen! One minute we were talking about her math test, and the next thing I know she's bawlin'!" Awkward hands patted me on the head as the Karen bit sunk in. I grabbed harder, not willing to let go.

That's when I felt it - a tug on my back, sort of like when you're a kid wearing overalls and your parents, needing to get you, pull on the back part. It was subtle at first, then became more insistent. I vaguely remember screaming for Bobby to help, but ultimately, I was yanked away.

I began sobbing at the loss, wanting to curl into a ball and hide in a corner. I settled for keeping my eyes shut and squatting down.

_Kate...relax...I need you to relax…_

_Cas?_

_Yes - please...we're trying to cast a counterspell, but you're fighting us._

Oh, thank God. I willed myself to settle down, taking in huge gulps of air. I ventured to take a peek, noting that I was in a bedroom, sitting across from Sam, who lay very still, staring towards a window.

Behind me, I heard Dad talking, his voice choked with grief. "Cas said it's irreparable. Lucifer just…mangled his mind. I don't…" He broke off, crying.

"It's okay, Dad. We'll...we'll take care of him. That's what we do."

I raised a trembling hand, placing it on Sam's arm. "Kate? You okay?"

A hand rested on my shoulder, squeezing gently. I turned around and was immediately stabbed in the belly, the force slamming me backwards into a wall. A grinning vampire was in my face, twisting the stake with a sickening, squelching noise.

"Fuck you, _hunter_ ," he spat.

Pain exploded from my insides out, and all I could hear was Sam screaming my name before the vamp's head slid from his shoulders, revealing Dean behind him. I slid to the ground, clutching the stake, not believing the amount of pain pulsing through me.

"Only you would get sick off eating a salad," Sam chided as he rubbed my back and ran a hand across my brow.

"Give her a break, Sam. She ate what _you_ recommended. See why I don't eat that shit? It tricks you." Dean was in front of me, holding out a bottle of pink liquid. "Here, babygirl. It'll help your stomach feel better."

I tried to say something, but couldn't make any sounds let alone words.

"Oh fuck - is she gonna puke?"

"I don't know. It _looks_ like the right size, but it isn't fitting. See here? This is where the screw should go, but it won't."

"Well, I dunno, John. Maybe we should take this stupid shelf back and get a new one."

"But you wanted this one, Mary, so I'll make it work. I just didn't want you to think I was messing it up."

John and a pregnant Mary were each inspecting furniture pieces, when they noticed me staring.

"Hey, sweetheart. Everything okay? Is Dean crying again?"

I shook my head and stumbled backwards. Things were moving too fast - I couldn't get a handle on the circumstances before I ended up somewhere else.

I turned around, and heard Mary say, "Think she's still pissed about the new baby?"

"Nah...she's fine. A quick oil change and tire rotation, and she'll be back on the road. No problem."

"You sure, Dad? I was hoping to take her to the game tomorrow night."

I leaned against the garage wall, watching Dad and Dean work on the Impala. Everything starting looking wonky, like when you walk into a fun house and get to the part with all the bizarro mirrors. Everything started bending a little, first left, then right, then stretching out before snapping back into place.

_Kate...we're close…hold on…_

_Cas..._ _**please** _ _...hurry...I can't -_

A gunshot rang out next to me, making me jump. What I saw next, made me yell. Dean, his neck covered in blood that was gushing from a hole just below his ear, slumped on top of me, dragging me to the floor.

I screamed - I couldn't help it - sobbing his name over and over.

"What the fuck are you screaming for, you bitch?"

Dizzy and sick, I looked up just in time for Dad to slap me across the face. "How many times have I told you…"

Another slap, this one drawing blood.

"Don't squeeze the trigger too hard. It'll throw off your aim, and the last thing you want is to miss while a werewolf is coming at you." Adam chose a gun off a table and handed it over. "Now keep your eye on the target I put on that tree and block out everything else, okay?"

I stared at it, noting that I was shivering too hard to even think about touching it.

"Hey...you alright? You're really pale…"

I shut my eyes and clamped my hands over my ears. Tears started to fall down my face, but I was too overwhelmed to actually cry.

"Aw, babe - it'll be okay. You can apply again next year."

A kiss was planted on my forehead, and when I opened my eyes this time, Dean was smiling sadly. Well...wait... _half_ of Dean's face was smiling. The other half was starting to smear like ink being poured on paper.

_Kate! Hang on!_

There was a sound like rushing water, and the scene in front of me bubbled and blurred to the right, as if I was on one of those carnival rides that spun and spun. Every once in a while, I'd catch snippets of conversations, and maybe a face, becoming clear, even though everything else around it was fuzzy and spinning.

"How're we gonna tell Dad you're pregnant?" Sam shrieked, then Dean and Adam tossed flowers into a grave. Sam shot Dad, while Dean held him down, and Bobby and Jody posed on an altar. Adam was in a graduation gown and cap, Cas clapping enthusiastically.

The roar in my ears grew louder and louder, drowning out all ability to think. I couldn't keep track of the scenarios, I couldn't focus on a fucking thing, and I couldn't hear Castiel's panic stricken voice calling my name.

So I did the only thing I could think of, in an effort to take control.

I screamed.

I screamed and screamed, trying to make my voice louder than everything else around me. I wasn't sure if I had my eyes open, or if the images flashing before me were in my head. There were people, mouths moving like they were saying something, but sounds mushed together in the background of my voice. I saw Dad, Dean, Sam, Bobby, some blonde girl, a guy with a beard and baseball cap, an antique black car, Dad again, a cute guy with green eyes, some dude with long hair whose face was all furrowed, a young blond kid, a guy in a trenchcoat, a man with dark hair and a serious face...then faces blurred together and sounds blurred together until I couldn't tell the difference between my screaming and other voices and colors mixed and something pulled on my body and there was a deafening _Boom_.

**xxxxx**

I was falling, like Alice down the rabbit hole. My arms flailed, the force of the fall making my hair whip around my face, stinging my eyes. One arm bent back a little too far, and searing pain shot through my shoulder. I think I yelled, but I couldn't hear anything.

The air around me shuddered, and everything went white...no, fluffy white...oh...clouds...then trees, then _Thud!_

Ground.

Hard ground, and it hurt.

"Holy shit - did you see that?"

"Yeah! She fucking fell out of that tree!"

"Oh my God, is she dead? Please tell me she isn't dead!"

"I don't think she's - hold on...the Queen's coming! Stand aside!"

"Your Majesty...did you see that?"

"I did...I saw...the whole thing. Thank you, knave. You are dismissed."

"But - "

"I said, dismissed!"

There was shuffling and footsteps could be heard shuffling through dried leaves. I lay very still, partly because I hurt everywhere, partly because I had no idea where I was or what was going on.

Someone sat next to me. "I definitely saw the whole thing, and you _did not_ fall from a tree. Out of the sky is more like it." It was the Queen, speaking softly,

I fell out of the sky?!

Gentle hands brushed hair out of my face. "And you sure are a cutie," she murmured. Raising her voice a little, she asked, "Hey there...you awake, oh strange but pretty person who falls from skies?"

My eyes opened slowly. I was exhausted, I was hurt, I was confused, I was staring into wide green eyes framed by intensely red hair.

I swallowed and tried to look around. We were in a forest, which explains why someone thought I fell from a tree. How would I get into a tree, let alone the sky? It wasn't making sense.

"Maybe that could be, like, your Native American name...Pretty She Who Falls From Skies." I blinked at her. "Well, _helloooooo_. I should probably be more freaked out about this, but after my last job, nothing surprises me any more. And somehow I don't think you're a threat. Seriously, you're too cute."

I grimaced as my shoulder flared, and the Queen's face winced in sympathy. "You hit pretty hard, so I'm not surprised it hurts."

"My shoulder…" I croaked, closing my eyes briefly against the spinning branches above me.

"Whoa - okay...no hurling on the Queen! I only brought one pair of britches today, and I will _not_ spar in a dress, no matter how dramatic the skirt swirl is."

I tried to sit up, and with some help from the hovering Queen, I managed to prop myself against a tree, breathing heavily. The world stopped circling, and I was finally able to really look her in the eye. She had a kind face and a nice smile, which put me at ease immediately. She shook her red hair out of her face and grinned at me. "So let's do introductions. Which I'm sure I'll get scolded for, but I really don't think you're dangerous. I'm Charlie. What's your name? I can't call you cutiepie forever, you know."

Her grin widened as she scooted a little closer, making sure I stayed upright.

"Kate...my name is Kate." Wow, my voice is just wrecked.

"Great! Kate...what? Last name?"

I opened my mouth to answer, since the name Kate rolled right off my tongue. But then I stopped cold. "Uh...I don't know…"

Her lips pressed together as she thought that one over. She slowly nodded. "Well, you probably whacked your head when you landed, so it makes sense that you're a little…" She made little circling movements with her hands. "...scrambled."

I had to ask, "Did I really fall from the sky?"

She nodded again. "Yup! Heard this popping noise, like those awesome rolls of bubble wrap which could keep me busy for, like, hours, and then there you were. It was like the universe opened up and spit you out _oh my God_ we need to call the guys. This is so up their alley. Why the heck didn't I think of that sooner?" Her mouth cinched to the side and she appeared to be lost in thought again.

"What guys?" I asked, not sure if I wanted to be something up someone's alley.

She grinned again. "Friends of mine. Super nice. Fucked up line of work, but they'll know what to do with you. Come on - let's get back to my tent and my cell phone. We got bitches to call!"

**xx TBC xx**


	14. Chapter 14

Sam sighed and leaned his head against the doorframe of the Impala. The last couple weeks have been simply draining, and the idea of dealing with role-playing nerds who may not operate in the same reality as everyone else was absolutely unappealing. The headache from that morning (yesterday morning? two mornings ago?) was a constant dull ache that just would not go away. The lure of the bunker and his bed was strong, but a job was a job...and figuring out cases would keep his mind off Amelia and everything he just dumped to the curb.

Okay...maybe there wasn't  _that_  much there. Two grief-stricken avoidance masters hooking up in an attempt at "moving on" may not have been the smartest move. But given what he lost when Dick Roman exploded in front of his eyes...anything was better than the aimless wandering he did in the Impala.

Of course, getting Dean back only to be replaced by a vampire wasn't exactly how he imagined the impossible happening. But really - what else could he expect? Fucked up, twisted, and not-quite-according-to-plan was the story of their lives.

He rubbed his eyes and stood up, wondering how fucking long it could possibly take Dean to take a piss. Unless he was…

_Sigh_. This could take a while.

He dug through pockets for his set of the keys, pulling them out just as the police department door clicked shut, and he heard his brother's voice. Looking up, Dean was walking towards him, on the phone, and giving Sam his  _You Won't Believe This Shit_ look.

He gave that look a lot.

Sam prayed it wasn't about the size of anything that came out of his brother while in the bathroom. He  _so_  wasn't in the mood for another report like that.

"Yeah - both dead. … I know...I'm sorry. We're at the station right now, so we can be there in…" He glanced at his watch. "Twenty minutes. … Yeah - keep an eye on her and be careful. We don't know anything about her - she could be dangerous." His interest piqued, Sam leaned on the car as Dean stopped in front of Sam, sighing dramatically. "I don't give a rat's ass how cute she is, Charlie. Do as I say. … Okay...seeya." Dean hung up and shook his head, staring at the phone like he couldn't believe he just had that conversation.

"You called Charlie? I thought we were gonna wait until we got to the park." Sam tried to sound more curious than accusatory. He's not sure he pulled it off. The headache made him a little whiny.

Dean leaned back against the car, flipping his keys around a finger. " _She_  called  _me_ , with a case."

Sam crossed his arms and scrunched up his face. "A case? She knew we were here?"

When Dean just lolled his head in Sam's direction, giving him one of those super patient looks, Sam felt like the slow kid in class.

He huffed out a breath.  _Just tell me._

Snickering, Dean stood up and pocketed his phone. "Apparently, while we were inside watching the police wipe up the insides of Nerd Number Two, some chick fell out of the sky, right in front of Charlie."

"Wait,  _what?_   _Fell out of the sky?_ " Sam felt slow, but he wasn't stupid.

Dean nodded and walked around to the driver's side. "Yup - that's what she said. Claims the sky unzipped, and spit out a cute girl." He unlocked the door and paused, looking thoughtful. "There's probably a joke in there somewhere, but it's escaping me at the moment. Anyway, we wanted a distraction, and now we have two." Dean yanked open his door with a squeak and slid onto the seat.

Sam also got in the car, still trying to puzzle this out. "Is Charlie sure? I mean, maybe this girl fell out of a tree or something."

Dean started the engine and shrugged his shoulders. "That's what I asked, but she was pretty insistent."

As Dean pulled onto the road, Sam settled back against the vinyl seats, his headache forgotten. "And she knows that Ed and Lance are dead?"

Dean grimaced and gripped the wheel. "Yeah. She was pretty upset. They were in her honor guard."

"Her what?"

Dean glanced at Sam. "She's the queen, remember? Queens have honor guards, I guess. Anyway, she said that Mystery Girl claims to have amnesia. Only knows that her name is Kate. Nothing more."

Sam snorted. "So dead LARP-ers with tree tattoos and an amnesiac who fell out of the sky. Good thing we had coffee this morning."

**xxxxx**

The park where the Moondoor game occurred was packed. It took a while to find a parking spot, and several more minutes just to get to the main area. Sam felt a little out of place in his suit and overcoat, but there was no way in hell he was going to dress in medieval garb. He glanced at Dean, who was checking out every costume, his nose wrinkling at horribly fitted tunics and plastic ears, but eyes lighting up at the foam swords and chain mail.

Sam made a mental note to buy Dean some tights later.

Not every tent was marked, so Sam nudged Dean and nodded at some guy walking nearby.  _Let's ask for directions._

Dean's face soured.  _Fine_.

Sam held up a hand, stopping the young man. They flashed their badges and Sam asked, "Hi there, would you please tell me where we can find the queen?"

The guy rolled his eyes. "Those fake badges suck. We're not genre mashing this weekend - it's straight up Moondoor." He pointed past an embarrassed Sam, "Her tent is over there." Shaking his head, he walked away, muttering something about two year old FBI seals.

Dean held up his badge. "Frank would've caught this."

Sam sighed and shoved his deep in a pocket. "C'mon. Let's find Charlie."

It didn't take long to find the queen's tent. Outside were several men and women just milling around, obviously hoping she'd make an appearance. Two men stood at the entrance, foam swords held firmly in their grasp.

Dean shouldered his way ahead, striding straight up to the tent. The men blocked his path, raising their swords. One licked his lips and announced, "The queen is not receiving visitors at this time. If you wish an audience, you must - "

Sam had a feeling this wasn't going to end well.

Dean's eyes narrowed, and he swatted the swords out of his face. "The queen will receive  _these_  visitors. She's expecting us."

One guard snorted. "Every knave in the kingdom expects the queen to grant them audience. However, we are under strict orders to keep everyone out."

Before Sam could say anything, Dean's eyebrows shot up, and he automatically shifted into a defensive stance. "Knave? Did you -  _Sam?_  Did he just call me a  _knave?_ "

Now, he  _knew_  this wasn't going to end well. "Dean - calm down…"

"Oh, I'm calm. But if these jokers don't get these fucking sticks out of my face and let us past, I'm gonna - "

Just then the tent curtains flapped apart, and a wide-eyed Charlie appeared. The guards dropped to one knee. "Your Majesty," they untoned.

Dean pursed his lips together and gave Charlie a look, who sheepishly grinned at him. "Thank you. They are with me. Let them pass."

"As you wish, your majesty," the first one murmured, rising to his feet and standing aside.

Dean glared a smug face at him before ducking inside. Sam chose to give a  _Thank You_  smile, which was pointedly not returned. As the curtain fell behind him, Sam heard them mutter, "It's not even genre mash-up weekend. Geez!"

Inside the tent sat a table, decked out with a map and tiny plastic figurines in different colors. A huge bed sat on one side, under what appeared to be an oil painting of Charlie herself. A young woman was asleep under the comforter. That had to be the mystery girl. Well, a sleeping mystery girl meant they could deal with the murders, first.

Both men faced Charlie, who gave each a hug. "It figures that after all this time, my luck would have me call you the same day you were about to see me."

Dean chuckled. "Welcome to our world." He nodded at the sleeping girl. "That her? Kate?"

Charlie glanced at her. "Yep. Poor thing was really upset. It was the freakiest thing I've ever - Okay, no. Watching my boss go alien and eat another person was the freakiest thing I've ever seen. This was second freakiest. I swear - it was like someone sliced open the air, and out she came, crashing to the ground. I think she hurt her shoulder and banged her head when she landed."

Sam winced and took a couple steps closer, trying to get a better look at her. She was curled into a ball, gripping the blanket tight in one fist. Her brow occasionally furrowed, but otherwise she lay still. "Did you - "

Charlie flapped a hand at him. "I said 'Christo', put sodium borate on her, made her hold a silver charm and slipped her holy water. No reactions - she's definitely human."

Sam didn't mention that holy water and saying 'Christo' amounted to the same thing.

Dean craned his neck to peek at her, then shrugged his shoulders. "Well she's out for now, so let's deal with this case and handle her afterwards."

**xxxxx**

They split up, Dean dressing in costume and Sam thankfully not dressing in costume, but going to the Tech Tent and handling some research. He knew Charlie and Dean had a bond, and it would do his brother good to have some friend time. Besides, the headache he managed to ignore now demanded his attention, so he dry swallowed some pills and began to Search The Web.

The pretty blonde that sat nearby spent almost half an hour helping him look up the other victims and place the symbol - something called the Tree of Pain.

How original.

He was about to find Dean and share the intel when that Kate girl entered the tent. He watched her find a computer and sit, uncertainty, confusion, and a touch of freaked out splayed across her face.

She bit her lip and began to hesitantly type, frowning more and more at whatever was on her screen. Sam heard the blonde next to him sigh deeply. By the time he turned his head, she shot him a glare and left, muttering something about it being his loss.

Everything is his loss. He couldn't win if he tried.

And he's tried.

When Kate looked like she was about to cry, Sam stepped in, taking a seat next to her and asking gently, "Do you need any help?"

She waved a hand impatiently at the screen. "I can't find what I'm looking for. That's all." The hand dropped to her lap and she sighed heavily.

He glanced at her monitor and almost choked.

She was looking up Castiel.

Determined to keep his expression neutral, Sam brushed the hair out of his eyes and said, "Well, I'm pretty decent with computers. Maybe I can find it for you." Not bad - voice was steady.

She shook her head and set her jaw. "Thanks, but the problem isn't a lack of skill on the computer. The information isn't there. Or it's all bullshit."

"Well, you never know," Sam pressed, practically holding his breath.

Kate blew out her breath and slumped in her chair. "I dreamt of this word….Castiel. No clue what it is or what it means." She gestured at the screen. "All I could find is that it's a celestial name. I don't know what that means or how it's relevant."

Sam cleared his throat. "If it was just a dream, does it matter? I mean, maybe your subconscious just...made it up."  _Smoooooooth…_

But she took him seriously. "I thought of that. But it's just bugging the crap out of me and given the day I've had..." She sighed and turned to face him. "Thanks, though. I appreciate the offer."

Sam nodded slowly, then stuck out his hand. "I'm Sam, by the way."

Taking it, she smiled a little. "Kate. I'm sorry, I'm a little...off today. Um...I'm...gonna go back to...the tent. Thanks again."

She made to get up, and that's when Sam's guilt alarm went off. He placed a hand on her arm, and said. "Waitasec…"

She turned back to face him, her face wary as her eyes flickered at his hand on her arm.

He quickly removed it, and tried to give her The Eyes. He was rusty at it, real rusty at it, but they worked all the same. Kate raised her eyebrows, but stayed put.

"I'm Sam...Winchester. My brother Dean and I...we're friends of Charlie. She called us about you…"

Realization spread across her face. "You're the guys who are supposed to help me figure out who I am, right?"

Sam nodded, adding, "And how you got here."

Kate dragged a hand down her face. "Charlie said I fell from the sky." She sort of rolled her eyes. "I don't see how someone can do that, so yeah, I don't know how I got here, either."

Sam leaned forward. "Is there anything you do remember?"

She shook her head. "Not really. Some shouting, a couple images, maybe, and that name - Castiel. That's all I know." She looked at him apologetically.

Sam smiled. "It's not your fault. Dean and I will help you, I promise. Um…let's get back to Charlie's tent. I need to find my brother and pass along some information."

Nodding, Kate stood up to go. Sam reached over, flashed her a quick  _Humor Me_  look, and wiped the browser's history. One eyebrow raised, but other than that, she made no comment.

**xxxxx**

They met Dean just outside the queen's quarters. Sam had to blink a couple times - Dean was actually swaggering.

They both nodded at each other, and Dean's eyes lingered on Kate.

"Kate, this is my brother Dean." Sam gestured between the two encouraging them to shake hands. Dean turned to Sam, his eyes questioning.  _You were researching - how'd you end up with her?_  Sam ran a hand through his hair. "I was in the tech tent when Kate walked in. She was looking up a name she dreamt about."

Kate blushed when Dean's eyes moved back to her. She crossed her arms, wincing a little at the movement. Sam didn't mention Castiel's name. His brother would know that if he didn't say what she was researching, it either wasn't important, or it was  _too_  important. Either way, it wasn't a discussion to have in front of her. So Dean just nodded, trusting Sam's judgement, returning to the more crucial case.

"We found out that the tree symbol is on the crest of the Orc King. He's probably trying to win the battle this afternoon."

Sam pulled out a piece of paper with the tree symbol on it. "I found out that this is called the Tree of Pain."

"How original," Dean muttered.

"Yeah, no kidding. It's…" He caught himself when he noticed Kate listening intently. She blushed even more.

"You, uh, want me to just wait inside?" She asked, thumbing at the tent.

Sam gave her an apologetic smile. She nodded and walked inside. As soon as the curtained entrance fluttered closed, Dean said, "At least she's cooperative. What was she looking up?" He kept his eyes on the tent.

"Cas."

They snapped back to Sam. " _What?_ "

"Yeah. She dreamt of the name Castiel, and it was bugging her, so she tried looking it up."

"Shit. Did she find anything?"

Sam shook his head. "No, and it really upset her. She's the real deal, Dean. No memory of who she is or how she got here."

"Fantastic. We'll ask Cas if he knows her once we've ganked the Orc King. Tell me about that Tree of Pain."

Sam sighed. "Faerie magic. It's a druid spell, used to cause pain and suffering. Most likely there's a book of faerie magic around here somewhere. Destroy the book - "

"Destroy the curse. Got it. Okay. Grab Charlie and let's get moving."

Sam frowned. "What do you mean grab Charlie? She's with you."

Dean shook his head. "No, I sent her to you with my phone." At Sam's blank look, Dean swore. " _Sonofabitch_. Come on."

**xxxxx**

An hour later, the two hunters and the queen trudged their way back to Moondoor central.

"Only you would hook up with a hot faerie while we thought your life was in danger," Dean muttered.

Charlie stopped, hands on hips. "Hey!  _This…_ " She gestured one hand up and down her body. "Is on twenty-four-seven, sir." She resumed walking when Dean snorted at her. "Besides, given my track record with monsters, I think this was a well deserved side benefit."

Sam chuckled to himself, which quickly turned into a cough.

"You okay there, Sam?" Sam glanced at his brother, who, while still bantering with Charlie, had one eye trained on him.

JesusChrist - he just coughed. "Yeah," he answered. "Swallowed funny."

Dean rolled his eyes.

Charlie stopped and covered her mouth with her hands. "Ohmygosh - Kate! I forgot all about her!"

"Of course - traded one cutie for another," Dean teased.

Charlie smacked him on the arm and followed them again. "I'm serious! Did either of you check on her before coming out here?"

Sam shoved his hands in his pockets, drawing his coat tighter as a breeze swept by. "Yeah. Actually, she was in the tech tent when I was looking up the Tree."

Charlie looked surprised. "Why was she in there?"

Sam glanced at Dean before answering. "She dreamt of the name Castiel and was trying to figure out what it was."

Charlie's eyebrows rose. "She knows Castiel?"

Dean shrugged. "Dunno. Now that Nerdvillan's been dealt with, we can check into her story. I was gonna call Cas and ask him - "

"Ask me what, Dean?"

Everyone yelped in surprise.

" _Holyfuckingshit_ , Cas! How many times do I have to tell you?" Dean had a hand over his chest and was breathing heavily. Sam was startled too, but Dean looked a lot funnier.

Together, Cas and Dean chorused, one in a bored tone, the other more emphatic, "Give some warning before popping in."

"I know, Dean. I'm sorry. I came to ask you for some help...but I heard you say you had a question for me." He turned to Charlie. "Hello, Charlie."

Charlie's eyes were as wide as they could go. "Hi…"

Sam stepped in. "Cas - Charlie saw a girl fall out of the sky today."

Castiel frowned. "How is that possible?"

"I know it isn't possible, but that's what I saw!" Charlie insisted.

"We don't know, Cas," Dean answered, "But she dreamt of you." Castiel's confused look was like chum in the water. Sam knew what was next. Dean waggled his finger at Cas. "What've you been doing behind our backs, you scampy angel?"

Cas blinked at him. Rapidly. "Scampy? What are you implying?"

Dean snickered, Sam sighed, Charlie hid a grin behind her hand.

Sam thought of the scared girl back in Charlie's tent, and decided to get this conversation moving. "Look, Cas, she has no memory of who she is or where she's from. All she remembers is your name. Would you meet her and see if maybe you know her?"

Castiel tilted his head to the side a little. "Of course, Sam. I'm curious as to how she would know my name. I'm not Biblically famous."

The four reached the clearing, and approached the queen's tent.

Dean lay a hand on Castiel's arm, stopping him from entering. "Hey - you said you needed our help. What's up?"

But Cas didn't answer right away. Instead, he was staring at the tent like it was a big mystery.

"Cas?"

"Is this girl inside?" He asked, not taking his eyes off the tent.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. "Yeah…"

Castiel's eyes narrowed in thought, but still he said nothing.

Dean sighed and snapped his fingers, startling Cas out of his reverie. "Dude - don't zone out like that. What's going on?"

Cas frowned at them, "My grace is inside that tent."

Sam stammered at him. "Your - your grace? Isn't that supposed to be  _in you?_ "

Castiel nodded, his eyes returning to the tent. "I came to ask you to help me track down the vessel carrying it. It seems that may be easier than I thought."

Charlie held up her hands. "Okay, hold on. You're saying that girl has your grace inside her?"

Dean snickered, "Guess she's taken, Charlie." He promptly choked it down when Sam shot him a bitchface. All business, Dean squared his shoulders. "Alright, then, let's solve mystery number two."

After two steps, Castiel paused, then took off running for the entrance. Charlie called out to him, but he didn't answer - instead barreling inside. Everyone followed, almost bumping into each other once they passed through the doorway.

There was Kate, facing off against some guy. They circled, eyes locked on each other. The hasty entrance caught them both by surprise, but only Kate used it to her advantage. She grabbed his wrists, flipped him, and knocked him out with two punches to the face.

Dean and Sam did a double-take, wincing as she added an extra kick to the groin after the guy was on the ground. "Fuck…" Dean swore, under his breath.

Kate looked up, eyes blazing, breath coming in pants, fists up.

"Hey! It's just us!" Charlie raised her hands in surrender, taking a step closer. "What happened? You okay?"

Kate immediately drooped, holding her head in her hands. "Holy shit…" She was shaking so badly that Charlie helped her to a chair and got a bottle of water.

Dean and Cas went to examine the unconscious guy on the floor, while Sam joined Charlie in making sure Kate was okay. "That was impressive," he said.

Kate snorted, then took a long drink of water. "Thanks - but I have no idea how I knew what to do. He just...he came in here, blabbering about Chesters, then told me I had to go with him." She looked up at Sam, fear in her eyes. "Please tell me I didn't kill him." Charlie began prattling at her, telling her not to worry and that everything would be fine.

Sam opened his mouth, ready to assure her that she hadn't, but then realized he had no clue as to what she did. He looked at Dean, who answered, "Well, he's out, that's for sure."

Castiel leaned close to Dean and whispered in his ear. Dean's eyebrows shot up as his eyes grew wide. "Perfect." He looked up at Sam and mouthed one word:  _Demon_.

Sam sighed heavily and rubbed at his eyes.

Castiel rose and walked over to Kate, his head tilted to the side, eyes roaming over her face.

She paused with the bottle on her lips, watching him watch her. Her eyes flickered to Sam before going back to Cas. Finally, she put the bottle on the table and stood up. "Do I know you?"

"It would seem so...in a manner of speaking," Cas murmured, adding a narrowing of his eyes to the  _I'm Thinking Really Hard_  look on his face.

Sam pressed his lips together and took a breath, "Kate...this is Castiel."

Her whole body stiffened, and he could almost hear the gears turning in her head. She turned to him. "So you knew what Castiel was all along, but didn't tell me."

Sam let his guilt show. "I know...and I'm sorry. But we didn't know anything about you, and…" he let his voice trail off, because he honestly didn't know what else to say to her.

She flapped a hand at him. "Whatever. Okay - so...you're Castiel. Do you know who I am? Why am I dreaming of you? Are we…" Her eyes widened. "Oh fuck, are we, like, together?" Her voice got really high at the end, and Sam could read the anxiety.

It took Cas a second longer to understand what she meant. That's when the stammering began. "Oh! Uh - no. We aren't. I haven't met you before. Well,  _this_  me has never met you before. But apparently other me's, have."

Dean stood and came over. "Cas? You're doing it again. The thing where words are coming out of your mouth but they don't make sense."

Cas sighed. "I apologize, Dean. It's just...this is a little difficult."

"What's so difficult?" Kate demanded. "Do you know me or not? And if not, then how the hell do  _I_  know  _you_?"

"Cas, man, just spit it out." Sam said, his curiosity bursting.

Cas opened his mouth, shut it, turned and walked away two steps, then came back.

Dean growled, "Cas…"

"This is Kate Winchester, your sister, from an alternate reality. Angels, led by Uriel, cast a spell on her, causing her to shift into various alternate realities and assuming the consciousness of other Kate Winchesters. The Castiel from her reality encoded her to help him track her movements as he tries to get her back to her correct timeline, and to help explain her situation to other angels she may encounter. It would appear that some of that Castiel's grace is inside her, although I am unclear as to why or how. That's what I was sensing, and evidently," he glanced at the demon on the floor. "She has gotten the attention of others, as well."

There was absolute dead silence.

Everyone simply stared at him. Dean had his mouth open.

Cas cleared his throat uncomfortably.

Somewhere outside, there was cheering and the sound of fake swords smacking against each other. Someone called into the tent. "My queen? You're needed to - "

"Not now!" Charlie snapped, sending the messenger scurrying away.

Finally, Sam spoke, his voice a little strained. "Let me get this straight...she's our sister?"

Dean added, "From another...mister?" Sam and Charlie glared at him. "What? I mean...it rhymed…"

Cas, not understanding the joke, shook his head. "No, John Winchester is her father. Her mother was not Mary, however. But...for sure, she is of your bloodline, even if not from our reality."

Kate looked around. "I...I'm confused, and trying really hard not to freak out at this. Angels? Spells? Alternate realities?"

Charlie put a hand on her arm in an attempt to be comforting.

Sam thought his head would explode. "We have  _a sister?_ " He stuck his finger in Dean's face to ward off another attempt at humor just as Dean opened his mouth. "Don't!" Dean shut it.

He looked at Kate, and she looked back. Both had wide eyes and open mouths, but for completely different reasons. Dean knew that  _About To Lose It_  look on Sam, and one glance at Kate told him she had the same one on her face. He held up his hands. "Okay - take five, everyone. Let's sort through this a little more slowly, okay?"

As soon as the words left Dean's mouth, the demon leapt to his feet, eyes black as night, and lunged for Dean. In a whirlwind of movement, Kate knocked Dean out of the way, snagged Ruby's knife which was tucked into his belt, and shoved it deep into its chest. Light flashed from his eyes and mouth, before he sunk to the ground.

Kate's mouth opened and closed, her eyes wide and filling with tears. "What the hell! I just...I just...I mean, I didn't even think!" She turned to Dean. "He went for you, and I just... _Ohmygod_  - I killed him. What was he? Humans don't flash like that!" She was frantic, wringing her hands and stuttering, tears falling down her face.

Dean stared open-mouthed at her, then looked to Sam for help. Sam looked back, helpless.

"Oh for crying out loud! You two are worthless!" Charlie snapped at them, taking Kate by the shoulders and leading her to the bed. "Okay! Calm down, Kate."

But Kate couldn't calm down.

She turned to Cas. "Cas! Can you maybe…?"

Cas snapped out of it, looking a little embarrassed that a human got the drop on the demon before him. "Yes, of course." He touched his fingers to her head, and instantly, she calmed down.

He kept his hand there a minute, eyes lost in thought. When he pulled away, Kate took a shaky breath.

"Okay - I'm okay. Thanks…"

Dean finally found his voice. "Sam - outside.  _Now_."

Sam followed his brother outside the tent, still processing the news. As soon as they were a few feet away, Dean let loose.

"What the fuck?! A sister? How do we have a sister? And what the hell was she thinking pushing me out of the way?! She could've gotten killed! Could Cas be bullshitting? That demon came for her! Does this mean she has to come with us, now?" He continued spouting off questions and comments, pacing a little as the built up emotions demanded some outlet.

Sam let him speak. Most of Dean's thoughts mirrored his own, and it was actually helping to hear them being voiced. Guess that calm demeanor he projected inside was just for show.

When Dean began to wind down, he asked, "Aren't you gonna say something?"

Sam blew out a breath. "I think you said enough for both of us." Dean let out a low growl, so Sam placatingly held up his hands. "Let me finish. Almost all of what you said was running through my mind, too. I can't believe we have a sister, either. But, Dean - that move in there...where she took your knife...that's Dad's move. He taught that to us when I was in middle school. And that shirt she's wearing - the plaid one - didn't Dad have one like that when we were little? Earlier she had some gestures that reminded me of you. I mean, the story is bizarre. But we've dealt with more bizarre than this. And if Uriel was involved, well…"

Dean scrubbed at his face. "That dude's a dick no matter what reality he's in. Holy fuck. We gotta take her with us."

Sam nodded, albeit reluctantly. "I know. If demons are looking for her, and angels can sense her…"

"She's screwed, and the safest place is with us. Yeah."

Dean sighed. "Look, man, we can't...I mean, if we're taking on another sibling, I don't want…"

Sam knew he was thinking of Adam. He was, too. "We won't, Dean. We won't let it happen again."

Dean nodded his head. "Yeah. Okay. Let's go see if Cas can unlock her brain."

**xxxxx**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience - it's been hard to find writing time. To stave off possible confusion, Kate has entered canon. It's Season 8, and there will be spoilers. In addition, I will be mangling the Season 8 canon timeline in order to fit the story. Just couldn't resist starting off with Charlie.


	15. Chapter 15

How surprising, Cas couldn't unlock Kate's brain.

"What do you mean you can't fix her?" Dean demanded, folding his arms and sick of hearing how an Angel of the Lord couldn't fix some simple fucking shit for his family, like restore someone's memories.

Cas sighed, another  _I'm Really, Really, Really Sorry, Dean_  look on his face. Dean's sick of those, too. "I believe Kate's experiences during this spell were traumatic in some way."

"Traumatic?" Sam echoed, frowning.

Cas nodded. "She's set up a barrier in her mind, most likely to preserve herself as she assumed an untold number of alternate identities." He looked at her thoughtfully. "I can...only imagine what you've been through. You must have triggered this memory loss. If I remove the barrier, I cannot guarantee your sanity will remain intact."

"Oh…" was all Kate said.

"Fucking fantastic." Dean was  _so excited_  to have yet another wall in a sibling's head to deal with.

"Well, what about the spell you said Uriel used? Can we reverse it? Find a way to send her back?" Sam asked.

Cas pressed his lips together before answering. "I am not familiar with this spell, but to do something like this...it would take a lot of power to complete it. I will ask some others, and see what I can find out. In the meantime, it might be best if she were warded. There isn't enough grace in her to attract a lot of attention...but it would be a good precaution, considering it's  _my_  grace, and I'm not exactly popular in Heaven right now."

He lay his hands on either side of her heart, pausing a moment, then his eyes flashed blue and Kate shuddered, staggering back a step into Sam's arms. She rubbed her chest, and looked up at him. "That was...weird…"

Before Sam could answer her, Cas blinked out of sight.

There wasn't much of a choice after that. After a quick goodbye to Charlie, they took Kate with them, which wasn't exactly on the top ten list of shit they wanted to deal with. But the thought of leaving a family member behind was just not an option.

Dean's done enough of that already.

They climbed into the Impala in silence, no one sure of what to say. Dean could sense uncertainty mixed with desperation radiating from his sister (he choked on that word a little), but was at a loss on how to fix it. He didn't know this girl from Adam … okay, poor cliche choice.

Kate tucked her feet underneath her and stared out the window morosely.  _Christ_ , she looked so young. Sam gave Dean his  _Fix It, Big Brother_  look, something he hasn't done in years, and it almost ripped Dean in two. Grimacing, Dean sighed, shoved his key in the ignition, and headed back to the motel. Maybe he'd figure something out along the way.

They drove in silence, until Dean couldn't take it anymore. He popped in a cassette and let the music fill the void inside the Impala. It was one of Dad's tapes - same classic bands, but all songs that were never released. Dad called it his B-Track tape mix, and Dean prided himself on knowing all the lyrics.

He tapped his fingers to the beat against the steering wheel, trying to pretend that he wasn't stealing glances at his sister  _(choke)_  in the rear view mirror while biting his tongue over Sam's week long headache.

Dean didn't know what to say or what to do. Purgatory left him permanently on edge. There wasn't an opportunity to be caring and sympathetic when you're running and fighting for an entire year on almost no sleep. It took weeks to adjust to eating again. Blindsided by Sam  _never looking for him_  was a gut puncher, making the transition even harder.

And now, they've got Kevin on a houseboat translating the tablet, they've decided to stick together and close the Gates of Hell, and Dean's convinced he'll die in the process. Not the best time to expand your family.

Something was off on the tape, and Dean frowned at it, not sure which button to press to make the music sound right again. He was about to turn the damn thing off when Sam tugged on his sleeve. He looked over, and Sam rolled his eyes towards the back seat. Dean peeked back there, and found Kate, her head against the window, singing along with the music, like the words were printed on the glass. She didn't miss a single one, even when the songs switched.

He glanced at Sam again, who barely shrugged his shoulders, sharing a look of wonder.

Dean sighed and kept driving.

**xxxxx**

_**Boulder, Colorado** _

_**Two Weeks Later…** _

Dean parked the Impala in front of their room. He and Sam took a moment to just sit and collect themselves. Dean rubbed his chest, grimacing at the blood spots seeping through his shirt when that bitch, Randa, tried to pull his heart out.

Sam sighed, long and deep, telling Dean that he had things he wanted to say, but didn't know where to start.

Join the club.

Dean knew Sam wouldn't ask how he was, because he knew how Dean would answer. It was a dance they played every hunt, and they were  _very_  good at it. Dean's original adrenaline rush already faded, leaving him sore and tired. Despite his desire for a shower, the effort required to make it happen simply didn't exist.

Before Sam could say anything, Dean yanked the keys from the ignition and opened the door. As soon as the door creaked, the motel room door flung open, and there stood Kate, trying to appear casual, like she wasn't worried at all.

However, not-worried people didn't bite their lip and fidget in doorways.

Normally, worrying and hovering bugged the shit out of him. He was raised to be fine, twenty-four-seven. But deep down, Dean knew it was all a lie. He was anything  _but_  fine, and he's been like that since he was four.

When he saw Kate in the doorway, waiting for them, it simultaneously warmed him to know that someone cared, and chilled him to know that his own brother hadn't cared for the year he was in Purgatory.

The ache in his chest wasn't just on the outside.

"Hey…" she said, keeping up the casual thing with a smile on her lips. Dean smiled back, slowly making his way to the door. Her smile faded when she saw the blood on his shirt. She reached out towards him. "What happened?" Her frown deepened when she saw Sam rotating his shoulder.

Dean shrugged, passing her to enter the room. "Randa wanted my heart, I didn't want to give it to her, yadda yadda yadda."

Kate rolled her eyes and ushered Sam inside so she could close the door and lock it. "Sit down - lemme take a look."

Dean dropped into a chair, still rubbing his chest, and smirking a little when she forced Sam to do the same. Kate motioned for Dean to remove his shirt, and began to check Sam's shoulder. While it sucked for Kate to not remember anything about her life, it was a boon for them that she still had her hunter skills and first aid knowledge.

Simply put, Dean liked having someone waiting at the motel to take care of him when he finished a hunt. It sounded really, really lame and soft (at least he was pretty sure John Winchester would think so), but it was the truth nonetheless.

He and Sam both winced when Kate poked at Sam's bruised shoulder. She got an ice pack from the freezer and handed it to Sam before turning on Dean. "Huh...your chest looks like mine."

Dean blinked at her. "I'm sorry...come again?"

Kate huffed, a blush creeping up her neck. "No! I meant...your spots. They match my scars."

Dean remembered the finger patterned scars on Kate's chest. Cas wasn't sure what made them, but they definitely looked weird. He snorted - couldn't be weirder than some woman with a heart transplant from a pagan worshipper who went around sacrificing people in order to stay alive.

And Sam wanted to do normal.

They couldn't do normal if they tried.

And he knows, Sam's tried.

"They sore?" She asked, bending down to take a closer look. Her fingers ghosted over the five small bruises, already purple and crusted over with blood.

"A little," Dean sighed, surprising himself with his mostly honest answer. A quick glance at Sam's raised eyebrows told him Sam was surprised, too.

"I'll clean them up then get you some ice." Her face was scrunched up in concentration and worry as she stood and went to the bathroom, presumably for a cloth.

Dean avoided Sam's leveled gaze, but he couldn't avoid his voice. "A little?"

Dean shrugged one shoulder. "Mostly."

" _Mostly?_ "

"Mostly what?" Kate asked, returning with a wet washcloth.

Sam stood up, holding his ice pack in place. "Dean's mostly a little hurting," he snipped, going to the bathroom and shutting the door firmly behind him.

Kate paused, looking between the closed door and Dean. "What'd I miss?"

Dean shook his head in defeat. "Nothing. I don't know. He's…" Dean flapped a hand in the air. "I dunno."

Frowning, Kate pulled up a chair and dabbed at the dried blood on Dean's chest. Thankfully, she didn't push the issue. "So, you got the bad guy?"

Dean huffed a laugh. "Yeah, stabbed Randa in the heart, and the others just dropped dead afterwards."

Kate nodded, her lips pursed together. "Nice…" A couple wipes later, she sat up. "Okay...shirt on, then ice. I know you want your shower but you look wiped out." She glanced at the bathroom door again, before turning back to Dean. "This was our third hunt in two weeks. Now what?"

Dean pulled down his shirt and picked up the ice pack, settling it over his heart. "Time to go home."

**xxxxx**

The next day, they arrived in Lebanon, Kate's face pressed to the window in anticipation of what was going to be her new home. The drive was only six hours, but it felt like an eternity. Sam's bitchy demeanor only became more pronounced, snapping at Dean and, Dean thought, wanting to snap at Kate, but for some reason, he managed to hold that in check.

As soon as they got inside, Sam took off for his room, leaving Dean to acclimate Kate to the Bunker.

When they heard his room door slam, Kate turned to Dean. "Did I do something to upset him?"

Dean sighed. "No. It's probably me. Don't worry about him - he'll come around. More or less. Come on - let's pick out a room for you."

The bedrooms were all in the same section of the building, but the brothers chose rooms that weren't next to each other. The lure of actual privacy was too great to resist, and in the Bunker, there was no reason for Dean to worry about Sam's safety. They didn't even have to share a bathroom, which was possibly more amazing than Dean's memory foam mattress.

Kate chose one that wasn't far from theirs, but still afforded them all privacy and space. She stood in the middle of her room, staring at the blank walls and the small duffle bag on her bed. Dean was used to living out of a bag, but  _everything Kate owned_  was in that bag...and it came from a fucking Wal-Mart.

Mental Note: Take her shopping.

She gave him a little smile, and lit up most of her face. "Thanks...this is great."

Dean snorted, leaning against the doorframe. "It's not great... _yet_ , but...it's yours if you want it."

Kate barked a laugh. "And what if I didn't want it? What would I do? Where would I go?" She shook her head. "Of course I want it, and I think it's great." She looked down, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "Are you sure I can have it?"

Dean frowned at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She shrugged, not making eye contact.

_Goddammit_  - little siblings and their insecurities…

"Kate." She looked up. "Yeah, we feel like we checked the stick and got two blue lines right when the timing isn't the best. But you're family, so...that trumps everything. That's it. Don't question that anymore, okay?" He tried to use his deep, serious voice, pouring as much sincerity as he could into those words.

He wasn't sure if he got his point across until her shoulders relaxed.

He sniffed and rubbed his eyes. "Good." He interrupted himself to execute a jaw popping yawn. "... _fuck_...I'm gonna go lay down for a bit. Feel free to explore or...whatever. Tomorrow I'll take you shopping so you have more than three pairs of socks." He couldn't bring himself to mention underwear.

Kate laughed, "Yeah, okay.  _Thanks_. Get some sleep."

Dean nodded, rubbing his eyes again and wondering when his headache started, because he didn't notice it five minutes ago. His bag was still by the stairs, so he routed himself past Sam's room on his way to grab it, pausing to listen at the door.

Nothing.

Sighing, he got his bag, and went to take a nap.

**xxxxx**

He woke some time later, feeling fuzzy and thirsty and like he hadn't slept at all. They'd only been gone two weeks, and he felt like shit. How'd they live on the road all those years? The thought of constantly traveling and shacking up in motels now made him nauseous, despite his love of hunting.

Dean finally had his own room - a permanent place for his stuff, space that was really and truly his. He didn't have to share, he didn't have to argue over it, he didn't have to relinquish it... _ever_. The way Dean feels these days, it's like having his own corner of Paradise, and he'd kill to keep it.

He yawned, stretched, and checked the clock - it was sometime after ten, which meant he slept for  _holy shit_ , six hours.

He lay there, blinking at the ceiling. That didn't have to mean anything, right? He was just tired.

_Right?_

A sneeze caught him by surprise, making him flop on the bed from the force. He was ready for the second one, though, muffling it in his pillow, but the pulsing behind his eyes was a shocker.

_Fucking fantastic._

Deciding that he needed something to dull the ache in his head, Dean padded out of his room towards the kitchen. He could hear Kate and Sam talking in low voices in the library, Kate's voice tinged with scolding and Sam's a little subdued. Curious he stopped at the doorway and peeked inside.

Sam sat at the table, head propped on his hands, a box of Kleenex beside him.

"You should've said something, Sam," Kate said, turning on a thermometer.

Sam shrugged. "It's not a big deal." He sounded tired and a little nasally.

Dean sighed and leaned his head against the wall. Guess what, little brother?  _It_ _ **is**_   _a big deal when you've been a pissy asshat for days from a fever, not to mention passing the bug on to your awesome big brother in the process._

Just as Kate tried to put the thermometer in his mouth, Sam smothered a cough in his sweatshirt. She waited patiently, smiling a little at his sheepish expression. She put the device in his mouth and pressed the button. "It  _is_  a big deal, Sam, especially since you've probably had this fever for a while, and it's not only made  _you_  miserable, but it's made  _everyone else_ irritable, too,  _because_  it made you miserable."

Sam squirmed in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. Dean snickered softly. Eventually the thermometer beeped, and Kate took it out just as Sam plucked a Kleenex and sneezed into it.

"Yeah...over a hundred. Good thing I went to the store."

She went to the store? How'd she get to the store?

"He's not gonna like what you did."

Kate just shrugged in response.

_Oh God,_  did she drive Baby? Dean stood up and stepped into the room. "What'd you do?"

Sam jumped, but Kate didn't even flinch. "I went to the store on one of the motorcycles."

Dean frowned, thankful she didn't touch the Impala, but not happy that she rode one of the bikes. Alone. "You know how to ride one? You don't even have your license!" He studied Sam, noting his flushed cheeks before turning back to Kate. "Wait - how'd you carry stuff back?"

Kate grinned and waggled her eyebrows at him. "Attached the sidecar."

"The sidecar?  _What_  sidecar?"

Sam blew his nose and shakily stood up. "Exactly. We still need to investigate this place." He stood a second, cleared his throat, then said, "I'm going back to bed." He took two steps then stopped and took a deep breath, like he was going to say something. Dean craned his head forward, waiting.

Sam just sniffled, then shuffled out of the room.

"Oooooo-kay. Well, that explains why he was so pissy."

"Mmmm…" Kate hummed, eyeing him critically. "You look horrible."

Dean gave her a petulant look. "I just woke up!"

"Did you even look in a mirror?"

"Shit - I didn't even go to the bathroom…"

"Yeeeeeah, might wanna go do that." She chuckled as she walked towards the kitchen.

" _You_  might wanna do that!" He called after her, face souring when she laughed even harder. "I'm funnier when I'm more awake," he muttered under his breath, trudging to the bathroom. Not only did he need a mirror, he had to seriously piss.

The bathroom mirror showed a dude with serious bedhead - hair all over, and  _oh shit_ , a little wet on one side. His face was pale, his eyes sunken, and he looked pained - like he just ate rancid tacos.

" _I bet I could still pick up chicks,_ " he thought to himself, as he smoothed down his hair and finally peed.

When he finished, and decided that his hair was no longer defying gravity, he went in search of Kate, curious about this motorcycle run she took without permission. She was back in the library, looking at something that made her face wrinkle up.

"Hey…" he said, walking over. Wow, his voice was deep. After clearing his throat, he asked, "Whatcha lookin' at?" He glanced over her shoulder and his breath caught in his throat.

_Fuck_. She was staring at some pictures...pictures Dean's tried not to look at for a while. He planned on moving them to his bedroom, but Sam was looking at them before the whole Moondoor hunt, and he left them out here when they took off.

"Who is this guy between you and Sam? Is that Dad? Or...your dad?  _Our_  dad?" She sighed in frustration.

"Uh…" He felt a lump form in his throat and a sharp ache in his chest that had nothing to do with his budding cold. He swallowed hard. "That's...his name is Bobby. He's...he  _was_...like a father to us." His voice shook, and he had to clench his hands into fists to avoid snatching the photos out of her hands and running to his bedroom.

She looked up at him, eyes searching his face. Her expression shifted from curious to sympathetic, which made the ache feel more like he'd been punched in the stomach.

He hated it when people looked at him like that - like they were thinking about him, considering his thoughts, trying to analyze him. He liked superficial attention.  _Real_  attention made him squirm.

Dean swallowed again, and this time he did reach out and (gently) took the pictures. But instead of running off, he went through the stack with her. "So...Bobby helped raise us when Dad was...busy." He sorted through the stack and pulled one out. "This is Dad...and our mom. Well, I mean  _my_  mom. And Sam's mom." He brushed his thumb over her picture.

Kate smiled. "She's really pretty."

He smiled back. "Thanks...I think so, too."

She angled her head to get a better look. "And that's...Dad?"

Dean nodded, not trusting himself to speak right then.

Kate leaned against the table and sighed. "This is so fucking frustrating. I'm asking you who these people are, and they're people I should know." She looked up at him. "Will I ever remember?"

_Goddammit_. She asked in this tiny, scared voice, that reminded him of Sam. Will I ever be a good enough hunter for Dad? Will I ever learn to tie my shoes? Will I ever get over Jess? Will I ever stop craving demon blood? Will I ever get out of hunting?

Dean exhaled through his nose. "I dunno, kiddo. I'm sorry - I wish I did." He kept his eyes on the pictures, not wanting to look anymore, but unable to tear his eyes off Bobby's face.

_Fuck_ , he missed the old man.

They were quiet a moment, then she asked, "Tell me about him."

Dean looked up. "Who? Bobby?"

She shook her head. "No...Dad."

Dean let out a breath and walked over to a chair, sitting heavily and dropping the pictures on the table. "This is weird, because...I mean...I have no idea if you know him from your...reality." He scrubbed at his forehead, remembering that he still needed Tylenol.

Kate slid a bottle of pills and a glass of water towards him.

He stared at them, and for a second, he thought she conjured them out of thin air.

She snorted at him. "They didn't magically appear, Dean. I got them from the kitchen."

Sure - that was a more reasonable answer. He grunted a thanks, and quickly swallowed two pills, willing them to work quickly, as if they  _did_  have magic.

"Look, if you don't wanna tell me, that's okay. I understand."

Dean's hand dragged down his face, and he sniffed. "No...that's...I can talk about it. It's okay." It  _so_  wasn't okay, but he couldn't deny her, either.

Kate nodded and slid into a chair, tucking her knees against her chest, once again looking so damn young.

He wondered how old she really was.

"What do you wanna know?" He asked, unsure of where to start.

She shrugged, resting her chin on her knees. "I dunno. Just...what was he like?"

While they were on the road, she learned that Dad was dead. He wasn't sure how she took it - she didn't know him. But then again, it was a potential connection that was now lost forever, so it probably stung a little.

Dean cleared his throat again. The words stuck in his throat, despite his assurance that this was totally okay. He ran a trembling hand over his mouth.

"Dad was tough...the toughest man we've ever known." Dean spun around, as Sam walked into the room, now in sweats and a sweatshirt, cradling a tissue box to his chest. He sat across from Dean, and Kate shifted her attention to him, understanding how difficult this was. "He fought evil all the time, and trained us every day so we could help, but more importantly, so we'd be safe...so we could survive whatever was thrown at us." He paused to cough against his sleeve, risking a quick look at Dean in the process.

Dean just nodded back.  _Thanks…_

Sam huffed a smile, then continued, picking up the pictures and gazing thoughtfully at them. "He loved our mom more than anything. That love drove every decision he made." He laid the photos down and leaned back in his chair. "John Winchester was larger than life."

Kate only nodded in response. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts, the brothers each remembering their father, and Kate wishing she could.

The silence ended when Sam sneezed a double, leaning his head on the table when he finished. "I cannot believe I'm sick."

Dean scoffed, "I can't believe it took this long to hit. You've been running on fumes for a while, man." And Dean was pretty sure it was his fault. He pulled Sam away from a normal life, twice, now. It wasn't getting easier...for either of them.

Sam rolled his head and looked over, "And what about you? You're still…" His tongue flickered across his lips, his eyes skipping to Kate before finishing. " _Recovering_." Dean knew he meant Purgatory. What else there?

To much else. He'd stick with Purgatory for now.

Kate's eyes narrowed, like she knew they were purposefully skirting details, but she said nothing.

Dean nodded at him. "Thought you were going to bed."

Head still on the table, Sam answered, "I was. Wanted some water."

Dean sent him a million tons of gratitude (that he was confident Sam would never sense) for the interruption. Determined to now run away and, yes, leave his sister hanging, Dean slapped his hands against his thighs and stood. "Well, I'm gonna go back to bed." He pointed at Kate. "Shopping tomorrow. Get some sleep. The mall in town is  _huuuuuuge_. Lots of walkin' to do."

Kate tilted her head and smiled up at him. "Okay. Night, Dean."

Nodding his head, Dean reached over and tapped Sam on the head.

"Hmmm?"

"Bed, Sammy."

"Hmmmm….yeah, okay."

**xxxxx**

_**Kate…** _

I was having this seriously fucking awesome dream where I was giving lessons to some gorgeous guy with deep blue eyes on how to decapitate a vampire. I was at the part where I show him how to hold the machete, and swing it  _just so_ , and to do that, I needed to lean close, my arms wrapped around him…

_Mmmmm_...yeah. Good stuff.

Something was niggling at the back of my mind, telling me to get up. I actually shooed it away, politely apologizing to Mr. Sexy Eyes, who smiled and tucked my hair behind my ears.

But that  _something_  wouldn't let me go, which was  _seriously_  annoying, and  _seriously_  distracting me from my lesson. I pounded my mattress and sat up, yawning. I'm going to start sneaking shots of Bobby's good bourbon, so I can pass the fuck out completely, and enjoy dreaming in peace.

Hmmm...maybe if I whine just right, I won't have to sneak it - he'll just give it to me. Eh, if he won't, Dad will. Then Dad can get in trouble for -

My eyes snapped open.

I froze mid-stretch.

I didn't even breathe for a few seconds.

Forcing a calm I definitely didn't feel, I lowered my arms, my eyes darting this way and that around the... _my_...blank room.

I'm Kate Winchester, twenty-three years old, stuck in a spell cast by a dickbag angel  _holy fucking shit I remembered!_

I leapt out of bed to find Sam and Dean, tripped on the blankets and ended up on the floor.

Apparently, I forgot to mention my agility skills.

Once untangled, I threw open the door and headed down the hall. I was about to knock on Sam's door when I heard a crash from the kitchen.

What the hell?

I left Sam's room and headed to the kitchen instead, slowing down as I approached, wishing I had a weapon in case it was…

_Oh._

It was just Dean.

It was just Dean, rooting through the cabinets, muttering to himself. There was a large metal bowl lying upside down under the table, a package of meat on the counter, and a few cans of something scattered here and there. He clutched a can opener in one hand, and used it to move shit around in the cupboards. He didn't see me, but more importantly, he didn't sense me at the doorway.

Something was wrong…

Not wanting to surprise him, I cautiously, I stepped into the room. "Hey there…" I softly called out, eyes widening in surprise when Dean looked up at me.

The bedhead from earlier was back with a vengeance, but more upsetting were the dark pink fever splotches on his cheeks, the glassy look in his eyes, his labored breathing, and the thin sheen of sweat on his brow. He frowned at me, like he didn't know who I was, and I knew I had to ease his mind fast, or I'd have Defensive Dean on my hands.

Wielding a can opener.

Yeah, no thanks.

I raised my hands in surrender. "It's me - Kate. What're you doing, huh?" I ventured to take a couple steps closer, and to my delight, he didn't freak out. He stood up, only to lean heavily against the counter for support as a dizzy spell hit him.

"Want chili," was all he said. He smacked his lips and looked around the kitchen, confusion clearly on his face. He wiped his forehead with the can opener hand, frowning at it like he didn't know how it got there.

"Is there chili in the cabinet?" I joked, inching closer, wanting to get my hands on the utensil before he hurt himself.

Dean emphatically shook his head, brandishing the opener in the air. "Gotta make it." He turned and coughed into the crook of his arm, which was covered in goosebumps. His t-shirt was soaked through with sweat, hanging limply past his hips.

Okay, Sick Dean. I knew could handle a sick Dean in my sleep.

But this was more than the Sick Dean I was used to. I searched his face, soaking up the raw pain and utter defeat radiating from his eyes. He sniffled, running a hand under his nose, then folded his arms across his chest for warmth, the can opener sticking out awkwardly under his armpit. Red-rimmed eyes pleaded with me to do... _something_ , and I swore he was about to cry.

I swore  _I_  was about to cry.

"Okay,  _hey_... _hey_...here's an idea. Why don't you sit down for a minute, hmm? I'll get you some Tylenol and - "

"Can't...I... _can't_. Gotta….want chili...I just...I  _need_  it…" He broke off with a sob, biting his lip and hugging himself as he tried to keep it all inside.

I closed the gap between me and my brother, gently placing a hand on his arm. Dean's shivering became more severe, and I frantically searched for a way to calm him down. On the counter behind him, I saw the picture of Sam and Dean, posing on either side of Bobby.

My mouth opened and a tiny gasp escaped past my lips.

_Bobby_.

Bobby's  _chili_.

He wants... _needs_ , something to feel close to Bobby, because Bobby's…

_Oh, God..._

It hit me right then. Didn't matter that it wasn't my Bobby, that my Bobby was safe in bed (presumably, that is…). The picture slammed all my memories of and affection for him right into my gut, and I let out a sob, covering my mouth with a hand.

We stared at each other a moment, sharing our grief as it rammed us like a gale force wind in the face.

My Dean would've been in my arms right from the start. This Dean is still  _Dean_ , but not  _my_  Dean. There are boundaries with this one, and I had to respect them.

Okay.  _Okayokayokay_. Dean was obviously so sick, and hurting, and  _needing_. I had to do something beyond standing there feeling sad. I wiped my eyes and swallowed. "Right. You want chili? I'll make you chili. I'll make you the biggest, bestest goddamn batch of chili you've ever had, okay? Just sit down for me,  _please_."

Dean blinked at me, and nodded, letting me lead him to a chair.

"Perfect. Stay here a sec…" I ducked out of the kitchen, running to a hall closet for a couple blankets and a spare pillow, allowing myself only two seconds to thunk my head against the closet door and get myself under control. I got back in time to watch Dean sneeze into some Kleenex that somehow made it into his hands. "Here…" I draped a blanket across his shoulders, pulling the ends tight over his chest, and rubbing his arms for warmth.

Hooking another chair leg with my foot, I dragged it close and sat down right next to him. I laid the back of my hand across his forehead and cheek - he was burning up, even though the goosebumps were even bigger (I swear) and his trembling was now seriously out of control. A quick peek at the microwave clock told me it'd been five hours since he took that Tylenol.

Guess this was beyond those two little pills.

His eyes closed at my touch, but he didn't lean into my hand, he didn't push himself into my arms, he didn't press his face against my neck. Rather, he held himself stiffly, not sure what I was doing, not sure if he could trust it.

Not sure if he  _should_  trust it.

I met his gaze. Heartbroken. He was absolutely and completely heartbroken. My resolve to respect boundaries flushed itself right down a toilet. Wrapping my hand around the back of his neck, I squeezed gently, massaging the rigid muscles that quivered under my fingers.

He frowned at me. "You're...you're  _different_...what's different?"

I smoothed down his hair with my other hand, keeping pressure on the back of his neck. I simply said, "I remember."

His eyes widened a little as he whispered, "How?"

I cupped his cheek, and brought my forehead to his. "Because you needed me."

**xxxxx**


	16. Chapter 16

It should've been a sweet bonding moment: me cooking at the stove, holding a meaningful conversation with an eager brother waiting at the perfectly set table for a delicious concoction to arrive in a bowl.

Instead, it looked more like…

* Me chopping and sauteing through blurred vision because of the tears spilling down my face.

* Dean curled up in a cushioned chair I hauled into the kitchen, wrapped in a blanket like a burrito, looking lost and dejected.

* Cutting boards, empty cans and packages, dirty utensils and assorted kitchen items were scattered on the counters.

I got a healthy dose of Advil down Dean's throat, and during the whole cooking process I anxiously waited for it to kick in and lower what turned out to be an almost one hundred-four degree fever.

My big brother never does anything halfway, in any reality.

I tried to keep it together for Dean's sake, but I was making  _Bobby's fucking chili_...Bobby, who was dead and gone for almost a year. The cherry on  _that_  proverbial sundae was knowing that the boys have had  _no one_  to help them... _no one_  to care for them... _no one_  to just  _be there_ for them.

It made me sick to my stomach.

What would happen if I jumped? I didn't know anything about their lives, but they were positively  _broken_. They looked worn, tired, lost,  _alone_.

What if I got pulled and they were all alone  _again?_

At that point, I started drinking beer, and was on my third bottle, one eye on an almost asleep Dean (yay, Advil!) and the other on the now simmering pot of homemade  _Chili ala Singer_  when Sam showed up, also blanket wrapped, taking in the scene with a hardcore  _What The Fuck_  look on his face.

He wiped his nose with a tissue and frowned. "What's going on?"

"Makin' chili…" Dean mumbled from the table, startling me, because seriously, he should've been asleep by now. He shifted a bit, brought the blanket over his face and sneezed into it...or under it...or somewhere.

Sam's face fell when he figured out that Dean was now sick. "Uh...at three in the...in the morning?" He broke off and sneezed into his own blanket, finishing with a full body shiver that was quite spectacular.

I scrubbed at my eyes, glad that the tears turned off when Sam stepped into the kitchen. He didn't need that. "Well, when else would you make it?" That got me a raised eyebrow. "Nevermind. Sit down. Lemme check your temperature." I pulled the other cushioned chair I'd been using away from the table so Sam could sit, and grabbed the thermometer.

Sam warily watched us, glances shooting between me and Dean, as he tried to sort this out. Finding your sick brother passing in the kitchen while your sister sobbed over a pot of chili at three in the morning wasn't normal, and nothing I could say would convince him that it was.

Still, he opened his mouth, letting me get his number, strangely compliant.

Leaning back against the counter, I dug the heel of one hand against my eyes. Jesus, I was drained. Something kicked my ankle.  _Hard_. Looking up, Sam was giving me a questioning look.

I shook my head at him, moved close, and ran my hand along his forehead and neck. His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't move. For two weeks I had only touched them for first aid purposes.

He didn't know who I was, or how I was, or anything about me.

I sighed. "I, um, got my memory back...right before Julia Child over here got busted rooting through cabinets with a can opener. He needed chili... _Bobby's_  chili...so chili it is. At three in the morning."

There was a lot packed into that statement, and FeverishSam needed a moment to process it all. To help speed it up, I reached over and snagged the picture of Bobby off the counter. Seeing his face again made my eyes well up and it took a great deal of control to squelch the urge to cry. I showed Sam, and then he got it.

As I wiped my eyes  _again_ , his expression told me he got the  _whole_  picture, my news, included. Why else would I care if Bobby's... _sigh_.

I wanted to curl up next to him, lean on his shoulder, and grieve. I wanted to sit with him and make him feel better. I wanted to know why he looked  _so damn haunted_.

But I couldn't get what I wanted. Not now, at least.

And that hurt, too.

I wasn't used to holding myself in check with Sam...but  _this_  Sam... _yeah_...different rules needed.

But  _you_  try standing in front of a feverish, shivery Sam, looking up at you with those goddamn wide, moon eyes without running your fingers through his hair until his eyelids fluttered closed and he leaned his head against your chest.

_It was really hard._

Still, I folded my arms to keep from doing something...inappropriate.

When the thermometer beeped, I took it out and checked the reading. "One hundred-one. A nice proper fever." Before he could answer me,  _before I could stop myself_ , I nestled my hand in his hair and pushed it off his face, ignoring the sweat and the weak attempt at dismissal. His eyelids did flutter closed, but like Dean, he stopped there, holding himself in check.

"You take anything since I gave you Tylenol in the library?" That felt weird to say...because  _yes_ , I  _did_  give him the medicine, and  _yes_  I have a memory of doing so. But looking back, it didn't  _feel_  like it was me.

Sam shook his head no, covering his mouth as he yawned, which morphed into a cough.

"Okay then...time to try some Advil...see if we can bring this down a notch." I flashed a quick smile before opening the bottle and pouring two pills onto my palm.

He shook his head. " _Kate…_ "

I shook my head at him. "Later Sam, okay? Right now, let's get you two coherent with less nasal leakage. There's plenty of time for conversations." I held out the pills, sensing his hesitation. " _Sam_." He looked up at me. "I promise - I'll do whatever. Just...take the medicine, rest, then we'll play one million questions.  _Please_."

He sagged in his chair, rubbing his forehead, like that was gonna fix this. Holding out his hand with a sigh, he downed the pills using Dean's glass of water (whatever - they both have it anyway), then dropped his hand in his lap. He peered at me through half-closed eyes. "Are you okay?"

I turned my back on him, and leaned against the counter, my hands opening and closing against the formica. Ducking my head against my chest, I sighed and faced him. "No. But...you two are more important right now." When aren't they? "So, I'm gonna focus on that, which is a perfect distraction, and when you're feeling better, I'll deal with me."

It was as honest an answer as I could give. He knew it, too, because he gave me that small little Sam huff-smile, that told me he got it. But then he said, " _We'll_  deal with you."

_Huh_.

I returned his little huff smile with one of my own.

Completely oblivious of our conversation, Dean sat up and blew his nose, which was now comically red. "Is it done yet?" He asked in a slightly whiny tone, accented with a sniffle.

I straightened up and checked the pot. It really needed to sit for a while so the flavors mixed. Bobby always said that was why he made it early in the morning when we were eating it for dinner. I peered over my shoulder at the boys, both huddled at the table, watching me like I held the key to their survival in this pot.

Come to think of it, I probably did.

"You know what? It's done enough." I pulled out three bowls and spoons, filled them halfway with steaming chili, and set them on the table. Despite Dean's eagerness for the thick soup, I doubted his stomach's ability to actually eat a full bowl. The knot in  _my_  stomach snarkily informed me that  _I_  wasn't gonna down a whole bowl, either.

Sitting between them, I could watch their reactions quite easily. Butterflies flitted around my stomach - what if they hated it? What if I made it wrong?

Why was  _that_  the most concerning topic?

Dean stared at it a moment, before scooping some onto his spoon. He blew on it. He sniffed it. He eyed it some more, and I was about to tell him to  _put the fucking thing in his mouth already_  when he did just that.

His eyes grew wide. "Oh, my God…"

_Goddammit!_  "What?" I asked, clanging my spoon on the table, already defensive. It was late (early?), I just got my memory back, I was freaking out about leaving them, I was worried about their fevers, Bobby and Dad were dead, and I was two ticks away from having the meltdown of the century over a fucking pot of chili.

Dean swallowed and looked at Sam, who had the same look on his face. "Sammy…"

Sam nodded, his mouth full, "I know!"

"What?" I practically growled, examining my bowl of chili. It was Bobby's chili! I've been making it for over ten years. It tasted like it always does, so what was their problem?

"It's perfect," Dean whispered. "It tastes just like he used to make it."

"Oh…" I looked down at my bowl, then back up at them. "O-okay, then."

It fell silent, and for the next several minutes, we sat in the kitchen remembering Bobby, eating chili.

**xxxxx**

Once the food was consumed, I got both brothers back in bed. As much as I wanted their company, I also needed some processing time...not something you can get when you're a human tissue. Sam wasn't difficult - a gentle shove in the right direction, and he took it from there. Dean, however... _well_...a gentle shove sent him into the wall, so a tad more guidance was necessary. I did get him in bed, though, and I did make sure he fell asleep before leaving his room.

It took all of two minutes, and afterwards I was left wondering what the fuck to do.

Growing up, glancing out a window and watching the sun come up was one of the best parts of staying up all night. You felt like you accomplished something major, and it made you feel all adulty. But in the Bunker, you had to rely on clocks and watches in order to know that you blew through the darkness doing whatever you were doing. It was odd, not knowing what was going on outside, and time seemed to pass really slowly.

The last couple hours felt so heavy. I wasn't hungry, and I wasn't sleepy.  _Restless_  was a better descriptor for how I felt, and I found myself aimlessly wandering around, as if seeing my new home for the first time. Well, temporary home, that is.

Maybe it was the chili and all the Bobby-centric thinking from earlier, but I ended up in the library, running my fingers across the spines of numerous books in various sizes and colors. Leather couches, a couple cherry wood tables, and some cushy armchairs filled the room, accented by a huge fireplace. The loaded bookshelves loomed over my head, and I knew that despite this room being called The Library, there were more books and files and papers stored in various rooms throughout the building.

Bobby would've killed to see all this.

A couple shelves at the bottom of one bookcase held a huge set of paperbacks, not the typical Men of Letters research material. I crouched down, squinting at the titles.

_#1: Supernatural_

_#2: Wendigo_

_#3: Phantom Traveler_

_Huh_  - science-fiction novels? By a dude named Carver Edlund? Shrugging to myself, I figured, hey - I have time to kill. Why not read?

I pulled the first one and almost gagged at the cover. Topless muscle-men carrying tools, the hair of that one guy flapping in the wind...it was enough to make one puke.

But that other guy  _was_ kinda cute.

I checked the room to confirm I was indeed on my own, embarrassed to even be considering opening the cover. Satisfied that I could be a dork in private, I flipped it over and read the summary…

" _Along a lonely California highway, a Woman in White lures men to their deaths…"_

Oooh, a series with actual ghosts and monsters? That explains why it's here. I read on.

" _...a terrifying phenomenon that may be Sam and Dean's first clue to their father's whereabouts."_

Uhm…

I blinked.

Sam and Dean?

That  _cannot_  be a coincidence.

But it  _had_  to be a coincidence.

Right? I mean,  _didn't it?_

Plopping on the floor with a soft thud, I opened the cover and began to read.

**xxxxx**

Even though it wasn't listed anywhere, I knew,  _I just fucking knew_ , that these stories were real - that whatever this Edlund guy wrote - it was real. It happened. These books told the story of their lives since Jess died.

It occurred to me really quick that there was no way I could go through all the books in one sitting, and I  _absolutely_  had to have this information,  _stat_. So I did what any other person would do in my situation.

I turned to the Internet.

There, I found a fairly detailed synopsis of each book, giving me the highlights I desperately craved, and the option to investigate further by actually reading the books should I want the details. I made a note of the ones I needed to read thoroughly, pleased that most of them were in the library.

The summary for the book called Swan Song left me nauseous, so I pulled that book and read it until I had a firm understanding of what happened.

I read it, but I didn't believe it.

Who am I kidding...I believed it. I just...didn't want to.

Mental Note: The game of One Million Questions will need a lot of alcohol.

The clock read ten by the time I finished - almost six hours spent pouring over these books and the computer. My brain was  _whirling_. I couldn't keep up with the questions that popped into my head.

Is this prophecy valid in my reality? Is this what we have in store for us? Did my addition into the family derail this whole plotline? And Adam... _what the fucking fuck happened to him?_  Is he...is he still in The Cage with Michael and Lucifer? How did Sam get  _out_  of The Cage? What is Dean still recovering from? How could Dad have made that deal? How could Dean? (Okay, those two were dumb, because I could totally see them making those deals...didn't I almost make one?). What killed Bobby, and seriously...  _Where is Adam?_

Tapping my fingers against the table, I decided to do some more hunting online.

I searched for my mom, me, my social security number. All I got was  _No Results Found_. I looked up my brothers, found news footage of them on a killing spree in a diner, FBI reports on Dean, and a death report on Dad in some hospital. Bobby's death was on record and Adam was listed as missing. The Roadhouse was burned to the ground, and Jo and Ellen were also gone without a trace. On the bright side,  _ha_ , Jody was still sheriff.

Like that does me any good.

I rested my head on the table, everything a whirlwind in my head.

I'd been here for over two weeks, now. I've  _never_  stayed this long, which led me to think even more than I already was. Since I didn't exist here, I wasn't taking the place of another Kate. So...did that mean I had nowhere else to jump?

Uriel  _did_  say I wouldn't go home. I always thought he was a lying sack of shit, just trying to be mean and nasty. But I've been here  _two weeks_...

Well! Time for something stronger than beer.

I rooted around until a bottle of Jack was spotted in a cabinet. After taking a few healthy swigs that only barely tempered the shaking wracking my body, I went in search of the one constant that could ground me.

My socked feet barely made a sound as I padded across the garage towards the Impala. I flicked on a small light along the way, barely illuminating the pathway to my salvation.

There she sat - patiently waiting, and I swear she whispered "What took you so long?" I ran my hand lovingly along her side, shivering at the cool metal under my fingertips.

In a low voice, I murmured, "No matter where I go...you're always the same. You have no idea how that's saved me…" I climbed onto her trunk, positioning myself against her rear view window, like a million other times in my life. Staring at the ceiling, I pretended I was outside, under brightly twinkling stars, a cool breeze ruffling my hair.

I kept my hands flat against her trunk, skin on metal, reminding myself that she was real...that  _this_ was real and sure and the same, down to the little green army guy in the backseat door handle, when everything else was different.

When Sam was at Stanford, Dean and I would often sit together on the Impala, watching the stars, wondering what Sam was doing, where Dad would take us next, what we thought of the current or upcoming hunt. More often than not, words were unnecessary (this  _was_  Dean…), and we just enjoyed each other's company.

I let myself sink into those memories, pretending I was there, with the stars, my big brother and a six-pack, until I fell into an uneasy sleep.

**xxxxx**

I woke up stiff and sore from sleeping on the Impala's trunk. It took a minute to figure out where I was...where I  _still_  was...before sliding off Baby with a resigned grunt.

I didn't have a watch or my phone on me, so I had no idea how long I'd been in the garage having a moment with Dean's car. Only at Bobby's did I wander around without a weapon or a means of communication. Only at home.

What did that say about this place?

After a few minutes, moving was a little easier, and I wanted nothing more than to rinse the now sour taste of whiskey out of my mouth. I entered the kitchen yawning, stopping short when I saw both Sam and Dean at the table, eating another bowl of chili. Both looked a lot better than they did at three in the morning, Dean especially. That feverish confusion was gone, his eyes could focus, and apparently, he had an appetite.

The bowl in front of him was  _huge_.

"Hey…" he said, wiping his mouth on a napkin. "Where were you?" Both of them were watching me, trying to figure out where I'd been. His tone wasn't accusatory - he was worried.

I checked the clock on the microwave before answering.  _Fuck_... "Uh...fell asleep." It was dinnertime, but my stomach wasn't up for eating anything.

Sam swallowed and brushed some hair off his face. "Where? You weren't in your room."

I walked over to the counter and leaned against it, stretching out the last of the kinks. "Yeah...guess I needed some company, so I was in the garage." At their still confused looks, I added, in a small voice, "I was with the Impala."

They considered that for a moment. Finally, Dean nodded in approval. "That's where I woulda been."

Sam rolled his eyes and snorted, at which Dean pointed at Sam with his spoon. "Baby's known to have healing properties, Sammy. It's part of her nature."

Again, Sam rolled his eyes. "Of course, Dean." He looked up at me. "How're you doing?"

I shrugged, and grabbed a glass for some water. My mouth just tasted  _bad_. "A little sore, but otherwise okay."

"Not quite what I meant, Kate." Sam was giving me the Concerned Eyes, like I was a lost puppy he simply had to help out.

"I'm okay...How're you two?" I automatically reached out to feel Sam's forehead, catching myself at the last second, pulling back when Sam tensed. I held my glass tightly in both hands, closing my eyes in embarrassment. "Sorry...I...force of habit."

When I opened my eyes, I could tell Sam felt bad that I felt bad and it was ten shades of awkward. Dean buried himself in his chili, leaving us to figure this moment out. "Kate, I - "

"It's okay, Sam. Every shift has new rules. It always takes me a bit to figure them out and remember to follow them. I just have an automatic response when it comes to you two, I guess, and I forget I'm not...where I'm supposed to be."

Dean's bowl now empty, he coughed into his napkin and leaned back in his chair. "How many shifts have you had?"

I filled my glass with water and drank almost half of it, savoring the cool liquid in my mouth, stalling the inevitable response. Dean kicked a chair until it slid away from the table, nodding at me to sit. I set my glass down and sighed, pulling the chair out and plopping into it. "I lost count. I had about twelve significant shifts - where I was there for...a while. Then the shifting got faster, with only maybe a few minutes in each place. That's when my Cas told me he was trying a spell to bring me home." I shrugged. "I'm guessing it didn't quite work."

Sam smothered a cough in his sleeve, then leaned forward. "So you know Castiel, and he was able to contact you?"

I ran my tongue across my lips and nodded. "A couple times. He was able to track me, maybe because of his grace in me? I dunno. But he found me."

Cas once told me,  _I'll always find you._  I thought back on the kiss we shared in Bobby's kitchen and sighed. "Haven't heard from him since I got here, though, and I don't feel any connection to him, here."

"You normally do?" Dean asked, giving me this squinty eyed look.

"Sometimes." I was being evasive, and I knew it. But I wasn't feeling like sharing that relationship right now.

Dean accepted my vague answer with a quick sneeze into his napkin. "Goddammit, I hate being sick."

Sam winced, running a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, I - "

Dean waved him off. "Shut. Up. Not your fault." He turned back to me. "So. Do you have any idea when you're gonna jump? Like, a spidey sense or something?"

I toyed with the rim of my glass. "Here's the thing…every time I shift, I replace another Kate's consciousness. That Kate goes to my sleeping body in my reality...and I take over wherever I am. At least that's what Cas told me."

Sam folded his napkin and swiped at his nose. "I wondered how that worked. What about the time difference?"

"Supposedly, my reality's slowed down, in some kind of stasis."

Sam looked thoughtful while Dean looked confused. "What, like slow motion?"

I nodded. "That's what he said. Supposedly, they're all still sleeping off the drinking we did the night before I left." Dean's eyebrow shot up and I blushed. "It was...yeah, we were trashed." He nodded in approval. "You were so drunk, you let Sam serenade us from the roof of the Impala."

Then his eyes darkened. "I'd  _never_  be that drunk," he insisted, as Sam shook his head, mortified.

"I,  _what?_ "

"Yeah, you did. It was impressive." I grinned at the memory, only to replace it with a frown when I remembered running across Uriel in the living room. "I went to bed fucking  _drunk_ , and got woken up by Jess..." Sam paled at that. "...telling me to get ready for your wedding," I looked at Sam, and gave him a sad smile "Anyway, I, um, have no idea how long I've been gone. To me, it's been weeks. I can't really wrap my brain around the science or magic of this. I don't even know if the stasis thing is true."

Dean gave me an  _I Hear You, Sister_  look.

I couldn't imagine what was going on back home if I've actually been gone a few weeks. I remembered how Dad and Dean reacted when Charles took me and I just... _no_. Taking a deep breath, I continued. "So...I, uh, I don't exist here...like...at all. While you slept this morning, I did some research."

Both boys shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. "Yeah...we, um, saw that you found the books...". Dean said, his cheeks turning red.

"Yeah...have questions about those, too." Sam winced. "But we'll save it for our game of one million questions. Here's my point. If I don't exist here, I'm not taking anyone's place. If I'm not taking anyone's place, no one's in me back home. I'm actually  _here_ , in my  _actual_   _body_ , or a damn good copy, right down to the scars. And if that's true..."

Sam finished for me, realization hitting him head on. "There's nowhere else to jump. You're stuck here."

"Shit," Dean sighed, tossing his napkin in his bowl.

I clasped my hands in my lap. "I'm sorry. I know this sucks."

Dean kicked me under the table, making me yelp. "Not your fault. Dickbag angels come a dime a dozen, and they don't know how to leave shit alone. We should know." His eyes flickered to Sam real quick.

Before I lost my nerve, I blurted out, "Can I stay with you?"

At the same time Dean asked, "You wanna stay here with us?"

I needed to make sure I heard correctly. "Come again?" I handed Sam a Kleenex. "Bless you," I murmured to his confused face, right before he sneezed.

Dean sniffed, "We, uh, kinda got used to having you around. But, if you - "

I shook my head vehemently. "Nono - I...I want to stay. I mean, I have nowhere else to go, but…"

Dean raised his hand, and I fell silent. He and Sam shared another one of those looks, and I knew something more than just me being here was going on.

"You gotta know what you're getting into, though, if you stay."

I shot him a Sam Winchester SnippyFace. "It doesn't matter, Dean."

Sam interrupted, "It does, Kate. You don't understand - "

I interrupted right back. " _It. Doesn't. Matter._  And it's not because I'm stuck in your world with no other options." I sighed, slumping in my chair. "Listen...I know the concept of having me around is all...messed up. You're used to it being just the two of you.  _But I'm not._  I don't...I've never been on my own. This'll probably sound pathetic, but...you're my entire world, okay? I can't be here and not be with you. I just.. _.I can't_." I impatiently wiped away the tears that irritatingly pooled in my eyes. "So it doesn't matter if you're dealing with the Apocalypse Round Two, battling God himself, or, I dunno, having tea with the fucking King of Hell." Why did they look guilty at that one? "I'm with you, no matter what. If...that's okay."

I stopped ranting and accepted the Kleenex Sam handed me, with a huff and an eye roll. "Sorry. I'm not usually this unstable." I couldn't believe that all popped out of my mouth. But honestly, I was seriously stressing out over whether they'd let me stay.

Dean swiped a hand down his face. "Yeah, well, we're in an unusual situation."

"When aren't we? Sam muttered, and Dean and I made a face, conceding his point.

"Kate," Dean said, pointedly making sure I understood him. "I told you before - you're family. Maybe in a weird way, but you're family. You have a place here if you want it, no matter what. We...just want you to understand what we're involved in."

After one last wipe at my eyes, I cleared my throat, brought my glass of water to my lips, and asked, my mouth on the rim, "So...what're you into that's so freaky?"

"We're trying to close the Gates of Hell, using a Demon Tablet written by the Scribe of God that's being translated by a Prophet of the Lord.," Dean drawled, leaning back and waiting for my response.

My response was to sputter in my glass a little, making the water dribble down my chin.

"Wow - classy fucker, aren't you?" Dean said, chuckling and handing me a napkin. "Still wanna stay?"

Setting down my glass, I dried my face and looked them both in the eye. "You definitely need to take me shopping. Looks like I'm gonna need more underwear."

**xxxxx**

The rest of the night, we played several rounds of One Million Questions.

Slowly, I learned their perspective on some of the events I read about in the books, and they filled me in on what's happened since then. I kinda...skipped over Dad's death, not ready to talk about it. We were anxious and curious, like teenagers about to lose their virginity.

"Cas did  _what?_ " I demanded, reaching for my second beer. I had a hard time imagining my Cas absorbing evils from Purgatory.

"Dad and Jody Mills?" Sam choked, reaching for his third beer, having decided that alcohol was more therapeutic than Nyquil at this point. Dean was on his fourth.

"Gumby Girl? You went back to her? Wow…"

"So...how  _did_  Cas's grace get inside you?"

A six-pack each later…

"You were  _pregnant?_  With  _Dad's_  baby?! JesusChrist, I think I'm gonna puke..."

"So Bobby...was he...I mean...was he in a lot of pain?"

"Wait, so Dad never threw me out when I left for Stanford? Seriously?"

"You've actually met Death?"

Post six-pack and a couple shots later…

I finally asked. "Okay, I can't take it anymore. What's the deal with Adam?"

That stopped them cold. Dean put down his glass and wearily ran a hand over his face.

"Is he...is he still in The Cage? With Michael and Lucifer?"

Oh my God, guilt -  _so much guilt_  on their faces. Sam's the one who answered. Dean couldn't face me, instead pouring a double shot in his glass and downing it with one gulp.

"Cas...Cas somehow got me out. I don't know how he did it, and he never shared, but I don't think it was as simple as him walking into Hell and undoing a latch." Sam stared at his hands, the memories clearly haunting him.

As drunk as I was, I could still read my brothers like...something really easy to read. Dean was holding back - I could see it. The muscles in his cheek were twitching, and he poured another shot to steady his trembling body. I quietly, and mostly smoothly, stood up and made my way to his side, casually leaning against the table, holding out my glass for another drink, as if that's why I got up in the first place.

He poured, and somehow managed to not spill anything. Sam's eyes were still facing the floor, so he didn't see me reach out and cover Dean's hand with mine. Dean froze, gripped me back for a brief second, then let go and set the bottle on the table. I swirled the amber liquid around, watching it climb the sides of the glass, then slide back down.

"Anyway," Sam continued, "Hell time is...different from Earth time. I came back without my soul, and by the time I got it back, it'd been down there over a hundred-twenty years. Dean...saved me, but it wasn't easy."

I stared in horror at Sam, then Dean. "So Adam's soul…"

Dean tossed back his shot and grimaced. "It's a wreck. Sam almost didn't make it when he got his soul back...and his body's alive." He wouldn't look at me, and it was obvious that this was a sore subject with them. All the talk about not leaving family behind and...well, they did.

I drank my shot, thankful that the booze took the edge off this conversation, and I stubbornly told myself that it was okay...that  _my_  Adam was sleeping. With Jo. At Bobby's. Just fine. Everything was  _juuuuuuuuust_  fine.

The topic of Adam more or less killed the mood, and we drank for a few minutes in silence. Sam scrubbed at his face, coughed into his elbow, and blew his nose. "Okay...I need to go to bed." He got to his feet, only marginally unsteady, and gave me a half smile. "See you in the morning. Or...later this morning. Or afternoon. Something. 'Night!"

I smiled at his awkward departure, and was about to do the same, when I noticed Dean had moved to the fireplace, leaning against the mantel, just...staring. Frowning, I wondered what to do. Saying goodnight and walking out of the room felt several shades of wrong, even though I knew the rules were different here.

I settled on pushing myself off the table and standing next to him, practically mirroring his stance, but keeping some distance. "What's going on in there?" I asked, startling him when he realized I had moved.

"Uh...nothing. I think I like asking you a million questions instead of answering them."

Chuckling, I folded my arms. "You know, you're supposed to be only six years older than me."

Dean's eyebrows raised. "No shit?"

I nodded, smiling. "How old are you?"

Dean's lips formed a tight line. "Thirty-six. You?" He looked almost afraid to ask.

"Twenty-three." He whistled, long and low. "Yup." We studied each other for a minute. There was a weariness on his face that had nothing to do with his cold. It was in his eyes, the way he looked at Sam, the way he spoke of our family. Dean Winchester was tired. Question was...tired of what? They certainly had an unnatural amount of shit hit them over the years, and if I was truly here for good, I was determined to ease this burden he carried.

He was, afterall, my responsibility.

Dean tilted his head a little. "We're close, aren't we?" It sounded funny to hear the question that way, because he really didn't mean  _we_.

I stared at my feet, watching my toes curl and uncurl against the wood floor.

"Kate?"

Sighing gently, I gazed up at him. "You know how Sam's your responsibility?" He nodded suspiciously, wondering where I was going with this. "And that no matter what, you'll take care of him? And no one can do it better than you?" He nodded again, and I detected a touch of  _Ohhhhh_  on his face. "Well, you're mine." I cupped his chin in my hand, thumbing over his stubble, smiled, then let him go.

He caught my hand in his, trembling and cold. He looked a little unfocused, the whiskey-fever combination catching up with him. "You won't want me, here." He said, his voice low and thick.

I rolled my eyes at him, because  _please_. That was just stupid.

His grip tightened, forcing my attention to refocus through my buzz. He was completely and utterly serious.

He let me go, wiped his mouth and sniffled. "Everything I touch just...goes to shit." His voice broke, so he cleared his throat, taking a step back.  _Away from me_.

"Dean…" I warned.

"No, Kate, you don't understand. I...get close with Sam. He...he'll get you out of  _this_ ," he rasped, shaking his head. "I won't - I can't. I - "

Okay, what the fuck? I mean, my Dean tends toward this kind of thinking, but holy fucking shit!

"That's enough, Dean." I twisted my hand until I had a grip on both of his arms.

He kept shaking his head, muttering how I didn't understand, that he's toxic, that he's no good, and right there, I drew the line. In a firm, John Winchester voice, I spat out, "I said, that's enough!"

Dean jumped at my tone.

"Listen to me, because knowing you, this is the only time we'll have this conversation. So pay attention, and try to keep up." He blinked at me, as I started to rant, jabbing my finger against his chest. "Don't you fucking pawn me off on Sam so you can crawl into a corner and lick your wounds. I may not have been through the same shit you've been through, and maybe you're a lot older than me now, but guess what?  _Who cares._ "

He pulled one hand away, which I smacked. Mental Note: No more serious talks with Dean when he's sick and drunk.

"Hey...I hunted with you while Sam was at school for almost four years. You asked if we were close. My answer is yes. If I stick around, and you let me, I bet I'll be close to you here, too." Then I got right up to him, staring into his face. I grated, "But don't  _ever_  fucking tell me I won't want you and to stay away. I've dealt with a lot of different Dean Winchesters. Trust me. You're not toxic." I searched his eyes for any signs of understanding, of accepting.

There was none.

But I didn't back down. " _You're mine_ , and that's that." I stood on my tiptoes, planted a somewhat sloppy kiss on his cheek, and announced, "I'm goin' to bed. Take some Advil - your fever's back up."

And with that, I weaved my way back to my room, leaving a stunned Dean standing by the fireplace to mull over my words.

**xxxxx**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may want to read another story of mine in this 'verse called "The Stranger You Know" before getting to Ch 17. It will be referenced heavily. As always, thanks for the kind reviews.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um. Apologies - this chapter took a different direction, and I ended up splitting what was to be in 17 into 2 chapters. So the connection to my other story will be in Ch 18. For realz. I swears.

_**Day 21...** _

It took a few days for them to more or less shake the bug they picked up. We spent some of that time getting to know each other, which was incredibly weird for me, but really interesting for them. Well okay, most of that time was me hanging with Dean. Sam seemed to prefer being alone.

Dean never mentioned our fireplace chat from a couple days ago, and I didn't dare bring it up. Occasionally, I'd catch him watching me, a weird look on his face, telling me he's thinking about what I said, and whether I really meant it. He'll figure it out.

I woke late, on the third day post-chili, finding Sam in the War Room (really?) researching lore on those tablets of God. In between sniffling and temple massaging, he filled me in on Kevin - the current prophet.

"Why's he on a boat?" I questioned, thinking that sticking one of God's prophet's on a fucking boat,  _alone_ , was probably one of the stupidest ideas in the history of ever. "Why not bring him here? Wouldn't this be safer?" I paused from flipping the pages of an impossibly large notebook on "Words of God and the Prophets Who Read Them", trying to gauge Sam's reaction to the question.

Sam looked up from his laptop, defensiveness in place. "Well...when we set him up on the boat, we didn't have the Bunker. We also didn't want to move him around - once he's out in the open, he's a target. The boat's warded against Demons. He's safe there. Another hunter checks in with him." He returned to his computer with a tiny huff.

I chewed on the tip of my pen, still not buying it. There had to be a better way than a boat. Then again, I wasn't here when the decision was made, so I really wasn't in a position to be critical.

Still.

_A fucking boat?_

I wondered when I'd get to meet this prophet, and what he was like. I pictured a middle aged guy, glasses, and a sweet, pleasant disposition. I don't know why, that's just how I imagined a prophet. Three cheers for stereotypes.

As Sam continued to click on the laptop, occasionally reading off bits and pieces of information, I took the opportunity to really study him. Both boys spent a lot of time in their rooms, sleeping and being miserable alone, so I hadn't been able to just watch them.

So...okay...his hair was longer...not the long curly moppy look he had at twenty-five. It framed his face, flipping at the ends in a carefree-1970s sort of way. It was long enough to really tuck behind his ears, but he never did, unless he's uncomfortable or hiding something. That's been a tell of his since he was nine. The eyes were so much more serious - filled with more loss than just Jess. They still went through the motions of softening with humor and darkening with irritation, but if you looked closely, the more joyful emotions never fully reached them.

And that made me incredibly sad.

For the most part, he moved through this cold a fuckload faster than I thought he would have, and he definitely pushed his way back into working as soon as he possibly could. More disturbing, was Dean allowing Sam to do whatever he wanted. Not that Dean should've been bossing him around, but...the unabashed protectiveness was muted, like it was something Dean wouldn't admit to anymore, and Sam wouldn't allow on any level.

That made me even sadder.

I wondered if I would ever break through his shell. Once upon a time, Sam and I were the best of friends. Was that lost, too?

Behind us, Dean cleared his throat and coughed his way into the room. He looked a lot better than that first night in the kitchen. His normal skin color returned to his cheeks, and despite the occasional cough, he could focus and breathe, which was a huge improvement.

Sam barely looked up, and Dean barely acknowledged the lack of acknowledgment. I kept glancing between the two, trying to figure out this unfamiliar relationship.

"Whatcha readin'?" he asked, pulling out one of the roller chairs and plopping into it with a grunt.

"All kinds of lore," I informed him, in as studious a tone as possible. "Very engaging."

"We have a lot to sort through. Can't just rely on Kevin," Sam commented, not even bothering to look up.

"Really?" Dean drawled, spinning around in his chair. "I was gonna say that we should go shopping while it's quiet."

Before I could answer, Sam clicked his laptop shut. "I'll be ready in five."

As he rose to his feet, Dean stopped twirling and we both stared at him. "What?" Sam asked.

"You...want to go shopping?" Dean asked incredulously, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Sam huffed, brushing the hair off his face impatiently. "Yeah. I need a few things." Dean's eyebrows rose. Sam tucked some hair behind his ears.  _Ding!_  "And...there's an Apple store at the mall."

Dean nodded, and pointed at Sam. "There's the reason. Awesome. Family outing to the mall. Meet ya in the car." He gave himself one final spin, launched himself out of the chair, and sauntered out of the room.

**xxxxx**

I  _haaaaaaated_  malls. First off, there were too many people in close quarters. It got me all kinds of paranoid, wondering how many of them were demons or monsters or witches or some other thing we couldn't identify right away. Second, I was always too keyed into Dean's hatred for them, so I tried to minimize my time there to avoid his bitching. Finally, I was a horrible clothing shopper. I had a bad sense of style, and just preferred to wear simple things that didn't require a lot of thought when packing a duffel at two in the morning. The last thing I needed to worry about was what coordinated with what while digging graves.

When we arrived, Dean and Sam orchestrated a meet-up time and location (of course we can meet at Cinnabon, Dean.), then Sam just waved goodbye and took off on his own, leaving me to shop for girl clothes with Dean.

Fantastic.

We stood in front of the directory, staring at the list of choices, and I seriously couldn't figure out what store to go to.

Sue me - I was a better hunter than a girl.

"What's wrong? Pick a store and let's get going," Dean urged, looking this way and that at all the people moving past us.

"I, uh...I don't know where to go," I admitted sheepishly.

"What? Just go to any girl clothing store. What's the big deal?" he asked irritably.

I blew out a breath and folded my arms defensively. This is why I hated shopping with him - the second we got there, all he could think of was getting out. "A lot of my wardrobe is just...your and Sam's old shirts, and some jeans. I have a couple…" I peeked around. "Fed outfits...But that's it. I really don't know where to go!" I felt  _soooo_  pathetic right then. What girl doesn't know where to shop or what places had?

_This gal._

You know how many Led Zeppelin shirts I owned? That's right - however many  _Dean_  owned when  _he_  was younger.

Dean looked at me more closely. "Wait - you wore our hand-me-downs? Seriously?"

I snapped, "Yeah, so? You think Dad was gonna go to the mall with his pre-teen daughter and let her pick out brightly colored skirts and tops so she was the belle of the cemetery?" I finished with a shrug that was supposed to be uninterested and aloof, because I was  _sooo_  above all that fashion crap. That I didn't understand. Or have references for. Or money for. Or friends to...yeah, you get the picture.

Dean considered this, examined the directory, then gestured for me to follow him. "Listen - maybe that was the case before, but not now. Money's not an issue, and you're not fourteen. So...we're gonna pick out some clothes that you like, that fit you, that you don't have to share."

I had to almost jog in order to keep up with On-A-Mission Dean. "Hold up - how is money no issue?"

Dean glanced at me over his shoulder before slowing down a bit. He leaned over as we walked, not wanting his voice to carry. "Well, not long after we found the Bunker, Sam discovered a safe in the basement." Dean smiled at the memory. "He was able to crack the code on it, and inside were all sorts of bank notes, gold, cash, shit like that. So...no more hustling. He actually pays credit card bills."

Well, shit.

Dean led me to a department store and headed straight for the girl clothes. "So. I'm gonna sit my ass over here," he pointed to a bench where another man was busy on his phone. "You go do your thing. Just remember to get a couple...you know…"

"Bras?" I supplied.

"Uh...I was gonna say federal agenty outfits. But I'm guessing they include bras, sure." He shooed me off. "Now go shop."

Dean walked over to the bench, and wearily sat on it, pulling out his phone and looking like...like a big brother waiting for his baby sister to go buy some clothes with her Christmas money.

Biting my lip, I looked around. I could do this. I could find clothes that were just mine, and maybe not two sizes too big, and perhaps not in drab colors.

Sure.

No sweat.

**xxxxx**

It didn't take as long as I thought, including trying stuff on. At the end, I had a brand new wardrobe, complete with underwear (yay…), two pant suits, a couple...uh...very feminine outfits, which, surprisingly, Dean approved of. ("You never know when we'll need you to distract someone before we kill them."), and some shoes and boots.

Oddly, I was practically bouncing when Dean paid for it all. The prospect of having my own clothes, that were not boy clothes, was actually exciting. In a weird way, it felt like I was finally addressing my own sense of identity that wasn't attached to my brothers or father. New scenario, forced distance, and voila! Autonomy!

I think he enjoyed it, too. If there's one thing Dean loves, it's taking care of his family. And most likely, he read my enthusiasm through all the uncertainty.

The cashier was this older lady, humming to herself as each tag got scanned, folded carefully, and placed in a bag. While she rang everything up, I sorta forgot myself, and leaned real close to Dean, hugging his arm like some little kid. I laid my head on his shoulder and squeezed, trying to tell him I appreciated all this. When he kinda froze, I kinda froze, the words  _Oh, Shit_  screaming in my head.

The clerk looked up and smiled at us. "How sweet! Is it your birthday?"

I slid right into a lie like I was born to tell it. "No - going to college!" I plastered my most winning smile on my face and nonchalantly let go of Dean, who was probably freaked out with my smooth affection move.

It's what I would've done to my Dean. But...yeah.  _Not my Dean_.

What I  _didn't_  expect, was for Dean's arm to wrap around my shoulders and pull me close. "We're super proud of our baby sister." He smiled down at me, and I could read amusement in his eyes. My own narrowed. He was up to something.

Dean gave the cashier this look that dripped syrup. "Who knew you could get a full ride to learn exotic dancing?"

The old woman's smile wavered a second, as she looked between us, wanting to keep up the conversation, but not liking where it was heading.

I tried to help her out. "I know, right?" Figuring I was allowed to give as well as I got, I stood on my tiptoes and licked Dean right on his ear, satisfied at the full body squirm he was forced to contain for the sake of the joke. "Good thing you let me practice for you all those years!"

At that point, she began scanning my stuff at breakneck speed. Dean and I both had to bite our lips to keep from laughing.

And he kept his arm around me.

Staggering under the weight of all the bags, we giggled our way to the food court, where we were meeting Sam. We finally calmed down, with only a few stores to pass until we reached Dean's cinnamon heaven. Since we just shared a moment, I figured I'd address something that'd been bugging me.

"Hey, Dean…?"

"Hmmm?" He was busy trying to scratch his nose without dropping three huge bags.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

Sometimes, I hate him.

Ignoring the weak attempt at humor or sarcasm, "I wanna ask you about Sam."

Dean straightened up, itchy nose forgotten, and gave me a sidelong glance. "What about him?"

I shrugged and adjusted my hold on the bags. "I dunno...he just seems...off. Like, he wants to snap, but won't. He...wants to get close, but won't." I kept my eyes on the ground as we continued to walk, but I could feel Dean's gaze. "He is okay? Is there something I'm missing? Or...or maybe this is just how he is…?" The balance between Sam and Dean was seriously off kilter, and I had very limited information to help me figure out why.

Yes, I knew Dean spent a year in Purgatory. Yes, I knew Sam spent that year being normal. But wasn't he glad Dean was back? Wasn't Dean glad Sam got what he'd been craving his whole life?

Like I said - I was missing a piece of this puzzle.

I raised my head and chanced a peek at Dean. He was back to staring straight ahead, his lips pressed together in a thin line, as he considered how to answer. I knew right then, that no matter how he answered, it wouldn't be the whole truth. "Look...Sam's...been through a lot. He's pissed that he's back in hunting, and I suppose that's on me. He's adjusting to being back, that's all."

Translation: Sam's unhappy and angry. I'm taking the blame for it. You want more info? Ask him.

Nodding, I simply replied with, "Okay."

Ha - that got me a suspicious look. "Okay? That's it? Just...okay?"

"What else do you want me to say?"

"I dunno! I figured you'd push more or something."

I laughed. "Nope. That's Sam's gig, not mine. I understand what you're saying, and I know you don't want to talk about it. So...I'm not going to bug you."

Dean frowned. "That's too easy."

"I know. That's why I'm your favorite. Look - there's Sam." With a bag covered finger, I pointed at our brother who was busy reading something on his phone when we walked up.

As we got close, Sam blinked in surprise when he saw how laden we were with merchandise, and reached out to help ease the load. "Jesus…" he muttered.

"Yeah, well. She had nothing, so…" Dean shrugged and left it there. No teasing about costing him money, no jokes about being such a girl that I had to get all these clothes. Nothing. I think he knew that I bought (yeah, yeah... _he_  bought) what I needed, and didn't go for expensive items.

"What'd you get?" I asked, trying to peer into his bags like the nosy chick I am.

Sam sort of grinned and pulled out a new iPad case. "I've been wanting one of these in gray, and they finally had one in stock."

We blinked at him. He's thrilled about gray?  _So fucking Sam_.

"Oh! And I got some socks, and a new pair of jeans."

We nodded at him. Dean thumbed at the restaurants. "I'm fuckin' starving. Let's grab some dinner, then head home."

We wrestled with the bags until we got settled in a corner of the seating area, taking turns watching my stuff as we each got food. Sam and I were eating by the time Dean came back, a tray balanced on one hand, the other holding his phone. He set his tray down, forehead crinkled, mouth cinched to the side.

"What is it?" I asked, curious to know what could hold his attention away from a burger and fries. "Cinnabon out of those dripping sticks?"

Sam snorted. Dean flapped a hand dismissively at me. "Hot chick behind the counter's making me three fresh batches. No, I got a weird text. Hey Sam - remember that cop a few years back who saved our asses outside St. Louis?"

Sam looked up, mouth full of baked potato. "Uh...yeah. What's his name...Frampton, right? John? Jim?"

"James," Dean corrected, setting his phone down and picking up his burger. "He just texted me asking for our help."

Sam looked confused. "Our help? For what?"

Dean shook his head a little and took a bite. "I dunno. Just said he needed us."

Couldn't he have answered before biting? Geez…

Swallowing my food first, because I won't talk with my mouth full, I asked, "So this is a cop asking for help on a hunt?"

Dean shrugged and swallowed. "I guess? Said he didn't wanna talk about it on the phone. Wants us to meet him in person."

It occurred to me just then, "Oooh - I finally get a gun!"

Dean saluted me with his sandwich, and shoved a few fries in his mouth.

Sam wiped his mouth with a napkin, then dabbed at his nose. "He still in St. Louis?"

Dean nodded and swallowed, followed with a burp. Sometimes, I love him. "Yeah. Eight hour drive."

Sam tilted his head from side to side, nose wrinkling and unwrinkling. "Wanna leave tonight?"

I handed Sam a napkin and softly interjected, "Bless you." He gave me a confused look, just before sneezing into it.

Dean took another impossibly huge bite. "No. It's late. Let's rest up, then go first thing tomorrow."

Sam glanced at me before nodding, accepting Dean's decision, and went back to his food.

I kept quiet, letting them work it out. That's pretty much how I've always acted - Sam and Dean made the plans, I chimed in bits and pieces, and off we went. So I was surprised when Dean nudged me with an elbow. "That okay?"

I actually looked around to see who he was talking to, even though,  _hello_ , he nudged  _me_. Funnier still, he also looked around. "What're you lookin' for?" He asked, confused.

"Uh...nothing. Nevermind. Sure - we'll leave tomorrow. Sounds great." I wasn't about to launch into a speech about how they've both been pretty sick, and that another night's sleep at home would do them good. They were doing what I would've wanted, so why lecture?

"Awesome." He checked his watch. "Oh shit - Cinnabon sticks are almost done. Be right back."

**xxxxx**

I got to pick out a gun that night. It felt like a Winchester family moment for sure - Episode Seven: Kate Gets Her Gun!

I also got a knife, which tucked neatly into my boot.

I packed what I wanted to take on the trip, made sure the weapons were ready to go, then...sat on my bed.

Alone.

Thinking.

So this was it. I mean, I was making a real go at living in this universe, as if it were permanent. I bought bras, for crying out loud. And not crappy ones.

In all the other realities, I never knew ahead of time when I'd jump. Many times it happened when I was asleep or conked on the head, but I don't think that was a prerequisite for shifting. It was just a nice coincidence. But I did feel like it'd happen, like it was inevitable. Even though Cas didn't see me in each reality, I had a sense of him, somewhere, somehow.

Here? In this universe?

Nothing.

Not a glimmer, no foreshadowing, nada. Seeing their Castiel didn't trigger anything, either, although I wasn't in my right frame of mind back then, either. So...maybe seeing Castiel now that I knew everything…? Well. Maybe it would matter.

But I doubted it.

The pull to go home remained as strong as always, but now it was muddied with not wanting to leave  _this_  Sam and Dean, who obviously needed someone to be there for them.

And that didn't sound arrogant or anything.

The muddiness seriously bothered me. I felt like a traitor to my real family, but weren't they my real family, too? In which case, leaving was traitorous as well.

Still, if I jumped, I knew,  _I just knew_ , it wouldn't be home. That means, more of the same crap. Figure out the situation. Figure out the rules. Follow them carefully. Engage.

I was completely convinced that Uriel's intention was to leave me jumping for eternity until I died or got stranded. I was tired of this. I wanted to stop. I wanted out. If this was out, then this was it.

I was home.

That reality slammed me like a truck, rocking me all the way through. I changed into my pajamas, and left my room, seeking solace when I had no guarantee of finding it...and I remembered a time (how long ago was it?) when solace was only a few steps away at any given moment.

Was this how the boys felt all the time?

I had two options.

Option 1: Process everything with Sam like an adult.

Option 2: Be coddled like a child by Dean.

Sam hadn't been overly friendly in the last week or so. He wasn't mean or rude or dismissive, even. But something was brewing in there. So I passed his room with only a brief thought, lightly running my fingers along the width of his door, longing for the days when talking to Sam was effortless.

I  _was_  his, afterall.

_But_ , maybe not here.

Sighing, I went for Option 2, of course, assuming that it was even an option here. Like Option 1, the odds weren't in my favor.

Dean's door was open a little, and I could hear him sniffling and humming to himself inside. A wave of hesitation washed over me. What the hell was I doing? This was home, now, and this home had new rules.

When would that sink in?

I blinked away tears, and turned away.

So of course, that's when the door opened wider, and Dean stood there, perplexed as to why I was creeping outside his room.

"Hey…" he started.

"Hey!" I answered a little too quickly. Feeling stupid and awkward, I pulled my sleeves over my hands and rocked on my heels. "Just came to say thank you for the clothes." That was the best I could do, because looking up at his face made me want to cry. Weathered and tired, it was still Dean. And I needed him. But I couldn't have him.

Home had new rules.

Dean's eyes searched mine, suspicious of my quick reply. "You already thanked me."

"Well, I'm doing it again. So... _there_. 'Night!" One sloppy jaunty wave later, I turned on my heels and started to walk away, praying that I didn't trip and faceplant on the floor.

Dean's no dummy, so I knew he wouldn't buy it. Actually,  _my_  Dean wouldn't buy it. Maybe this one…

"Hold on, there." A hand grabbed my wrist, pulling me back.

_Goddammit…_

I tried to casually wipe my eyes before anything dripped, then turned around. "Hmmm?" I asked, all manner of calm and cool.

He leaned against his doorframe, like he's done a million other times, and jutted his chin at me. "What's wrong?"

Pulling my sleeves down even further, I began to fidget. In the hallway.  _Way to be twenty-three, Kate_. "Nothing! Just...just wanted to - "

"Bullshit. What's wrong?"

What do I tell him?

I was scared that this was now my home, even though I loved them both already?

I was scared that I'd jump tonight, after I went through all the motions for staying here?

I was just scared and needed my big brother to make it better, but he's...here but not here?

_No_. Because...because I dunno why. Just because.

So this came out of my mouth instead: "I'm okay...really. Just had this weird feeling that something was wrong, so I thought I'd check on you. You look fine, so...no worries!" A more confident smile got plastered on my face, and this time I was able to get away, rounding the corner and heading back to my room with my face buried in my hands, and a blush creeping up my neck and cheeks.

I paused at my room, and sighed, not wanting to go in there. So instead, I went to the library, where I could at least feel close to Bobby and Dad, surrounded by lore and research and stories and documentation.

The room was dark, and the faint smell of old paper lingered in the air, almost taunting with the promise of knowledge printed on each page. The only light came from the hallway, and it was faint at best. Snagging a blanket off the back of the couch, I huddled in the corner, sinking into the leather and leaning against the armrest. The blanket gave my hands something else to fiddle with as I let the emotional wave of resignation and apprehension wash over me.

With my eyes closed, I tried to pretend I was on Bobby's couch, in Bobby's living room, with Bobby sitting at his desk, nursing a glass of whiskey. Dad towered over him, pointing at something in a book, while Bobby snipped back that he already read that part an hour ago, and how it didn't cross reference with anything else in his collection. I smiled briefly, letting the tears gently fall.

I imagined Adam sticking his tongue out at me from across the room, and Sam reading a book in that one chair, and Dean, sitting next to me on the couch. I could feel the couch dip from his weight, his hands brushing my hair off my face, his…

My eyes flew open.

"Hey…" He said, concerned eyes locked on mine.  _Ohhhh…_ he's, like, really here. I blinked furiously, impossibly more embarrassed than before.

I had nothing to say. He caught me off guard, my brain still split between where I was mentally and where I was physically. So I just...stared at him.

And he stared back.

After a moment, Dean scooted until he rested against the other armrest. He propped his feet on the ottoman, folded his arms across his chest, and closed his eyes. "My bed felt weird," was all he said to justify his presence on the couch.

Although his eyes were closed, I nodded at him, accepting his ridiculous statement, hoping he understood my true sentiments just as I understood his.

With Dean on the couch with me, I fell asleep in a matter of minutes.

**xxxxx**

When I woke, I knew I was still in the Bunker, even without opening my eyes and checking my surroundings. I just knew.

The apprehension was gone, along with any sense of fear or discomfort. I felt warm and safe, with a side of  _Everything'll Be Okay,_  thrown in.

It wasn't until I wriggled a bit that I realized I wasn't lying directly on the couch. My head nestled against Dean's chest, tucked neatly under his chin. Strong arms enveloped me, one hand resting on the back of my head, the other on my back. I was still curled into a ball, only now on the opposite side of the couch, and apparently, on top of my brother.

Let's be clear - there wasn't anything inappropriate going on. I've curled up with Dean plenty of times over the years. But with  _this_  Dean? It felt a smidge odd, while simultaneously feeling like...well... _home_.

So I decided it didn't matter how I migrated across the leather divide. All that mattered was that I did, and he didn't push me away. He gave what I needed, like he always does, and I loved him for it.

A cough rumbled in his chest, low and faint, like he was holding it in so I wasn't disturbed. Remembering Walking Pneumonia Dean, I splayed my fingers against his chest, and pressed the heel of my hand into his muscles, rubbing gently. His tension at the movement lasted barely a second, as the pressure stilled his fluttery breathing.

He yawned, stretching a bit, and it occurred to me that his back was probably killing him. I reluctantly pulled away, allowing him to stretch more fully and work out the kinks. Squinting I looked around trying to find a clock. The digital clock on the DVD player read four-fifteen, which was too early to actually get up. But I figured I needed to let Dean go back to his own bed, so the scooching process back to the other side of the couch began.

Dean made this noise in his throat, and was yawning again by the time I looked back. He shuffled around readjusting his position between the couch and ottoman, then made a  _C'mere_  gesture with his hand.

Softly, I said, "Dean - go back to bed, okay? This isn't comfortable for you."

He made the hand movement again, and even kicked me a little.  _Fucker_. I bit my lip, not sure what to do. Sensing my hesitation, he opened one eye and muttered, "Come. Here."

Huffing, I lay back down, sighing contentedly when his arms wrapped around me. Into my hair, he murmured groggily, "Nice to be needed. It's...been a long time."

Oh.

Perhaps this was part of the strain I see between him and Sam. Who else would affect him like that? I couldn't really comment on that in relation to his life here. All I knew were the cliff notes from books and the little they're told me. To be fair, I could only speak for myself and how I felt.

"I always need you. I'm sorry I - "

He shushed me, and squeezed tight. "No sorry. Go back to sleep. I've got you."

As always, I obeyed.

**xxxxx**

Next time I woke, Dean was sliding off the couch, trying to leave me undisturbed. I had a feeling he wasn't quite awake when we spoke last, so I feigned sleep so he could slip away easily. I kinda thought that the last thing he wanted was a conversation about last night.

Which sounds all sorts of wrong.

"You slept out here last night?" Sam's voice floated into the room, curious and questioning.

Dean shushed him, and I heard his footsteps walking away. In a low voice, he said, "Kept Kate company. She was upset."

Matching the low volume, Sam asked, "Upset? About what? She okay?"

I imagined Dean shrugging. "Yeah...not sure why. Came to my room looking all lost and I just figured she needed some company."

There was silence for a beat. Then, "Well...she's probably starting to accept that she's here, and gonna be here for...a while."

"Yeah…" Dean yawned, making an obnoxious noise in the back of his throat. "Okay. Gonna shower. Give her a few more minutes."

That's all I heard before soft footsteps faded away. I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling. So I had my second mid-spell crisis, and survived. I could stay here. I could do this. It wasn't so bad.

Reaching into the pocket of my pajama pants, I pulled out the little pack of sticky notes I shoved in there earlier. I'd been contemplating using them to help me mark the reality jumping. Keeping them close meant I was waiting to jump, ready to leave, wanting to move on.

I flipped through the pack of brightly colored papers for a minute, looked around, then tossed it onto a table.

Stretching like a cat, I slowly sat up, finally feeling rested and centered and generally okay.

I was home.

Time to hunt.

**xxxxx**


	18. Chapter 18

_**Day 22…** _

The ride was uneventful. At least, that's the polite way to put it. The actual way to put it, was that it was motherfucking  _boring_. Even  _Sam_ got tired of watching the landscape blur past.

We pulled into St. Louis in the early evening. We'd eaten on the road, and weren't really hungry, just tired from being bored to death all day.

Once we got settled in the motel room, Dean announced, "Going for a beer run. You guys need anything?"

Sam shook his head, and I followed suit, so Dean flipped his key ring around his finger and strode to the door. "Be back in a few minutes."

Once he left, Sam stood still for a heartbeat, then began to unpack his bag. I did the same, and the silence stretched taut in the room. I tried to picture how this would've gone if Dean signed up for two rooms. Two sets of wards? Where would we do the first aid? I really didn't want a room to myself...I'd never had one, and I didn't want to start now. Besides, the dilemma of choosing whose room we should to hole up in, should something go sour, wasn't appealing. So two queen beds and a couch it was.

Luckily I wasn't as tall as my brothers, because I was taking the couch.

Sam was in the bathroom, setting out his toiletry kit and maybe stalling that whole process to avoid the possibility of conversation. How long does it take to set a vinyl bag on a counter?

I hung a couple shirts in the closet, then decided that this whole silence thing was stupid and dumb and stupid. And stupid.  _I missed Sam_. This weird chasm between us was bugging the shit out of me, and it needed to be addressed.

At least  _I_  thought so.

So I walked to the bathroom door, which was open, and leaned against the frame. Clearing my throat, I jumped right in. "Hey, Sam?"

He glanced at me quickly, before returning to the arduous task of figuring out whether the toothpaste should be on the right or left of the toothbrush. "Yeah?"

I was about to ask him if everything was okay between us, even though it clearly wasn't, when a knock at the door made us both freeze. Simultaneously, we pulled guns from our waistbands, slowly making our way to the door. Sam signalled for me to stand ready, gun poised. Careful not to make a sound, Sam unlocked the door while peering through the peep hole.

After shaking his head, which told me he didn't see anything, he mouthed, " _On three - one...two…_ " On the third beat, he yanked open the door and we both raised our guns, ready to shoot at…

...a dog. A gorgeous Doberman, complete with perky ears and a metal studded red leather collar.

We blinked at it, guns wavering. Sam leaned out of the room, scanning the parking lot and checking the walkways. Empty. I tucked my gun back in my pants and sighed.

As Sam put his gun away, he murmured, "Hey there, puppy...where's your owner, huh?"

He didn't get much further, because the dog ran past us, into the room, and leapt onto Dean's bed.

_Oh shit._

"Oh,  _nonononono…_ " I muttered, automatically looking around the room, expecting Dean to jump out and throw a fit. I frantically looked to Sam. If we didn't get rid of this dog, we were in deep shit.

Sam quickly shut the door and ran a hand through his hair. "Oooo-kay, little…" He leaned down and peeked at the dog's nether region. "...girl... _nice_  girl...are you friendly?" The dog let out a little whine and laid down, rolling onto her back, asking for a belly-rub.

I stepped closer and rubbed her tummy. "She sure is friendly, aren't you? Yes, you are!" Sam followed suit, and soon we were both lavishing affection and speaking in this ridiculous tone that would've been embarrassing in any other situation.

Without a pause in the affection giving, I asked, still in that ridiculous tone, " _Saaaaaam_ , what're we gonna  _doooooo_?"

"I  _dunnooooo_ \- he's gonna  _kill us_  when he gets  _baaaaaaack_ ," he answered, also in a sing-song voice.

"No shit...but we can't just kick her out! There's no tag on her collar!" I didn't mean for my voice to sound so desperate, but it happened anyway. The dog picked up on this, and rolled to a sitting position, eyeing us curiously, as if trying to figure out why we stopped paying attention to her.

Sam looked at me - responding to my tone with his proverbial big brother muscles, even though he'd never used them before. Licking his lips, Sam sighed. "Yeah, I know. We'll think of - "

The Impala rumbled into a parking spot, right outside the room.

"Fuck!" Sam swore, running to the door, me on his heels.

We stepped outside, barely closing the door behind us, mind whirling. I nudged Sam.

_What're we gonna do?_

He bit his lip, then his eyebrows raised and a grin spread across his face.  _Use The Eyes!_

_My God_ , my brother is a fucking genius.

Dean climbed out of the Impala, a six-pack and plastic bag in tow, and warily approached us. "What?" he asked, already suspicious. He gestured at us. "What's with the puppy faces?"

Sam took a deep breath. "Funny you asked with those words. Listen...um...don't be mad, okay?"

Tag teaming, I helped. "She just came in here - we didn't invite her - we swear!"

"So we were thinking, um, let her stay the night? Then we'll figure out where to bring her in the morning?"

Dean's eyes wandered, back and forth, trying to gauge our words. He peered between us, through the open door, and raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, sure, she can stay." Then he grinned, waggled his eyebrows, and pushed past us into the room.

Sam and I exchanged a confused look, before following him inside. "What the - " Sam was sputtering at the sight of a beautiful woman laying on Dean's bed, feet crossed at the ankles. She had long black hair, a low-cut black dress, and wore...a red, studded collar.

I pulled out my gun, aiming it at her heart. "She was a dog a second ago…"

Dean glared at me, telling me I was being rude. But when Sam also pulled his gun and trained it at her head, demanding, "Start talking, or I'll start shooting." Dean's whole attitude shifted, and the grocery items were hastily flung on the table. (Well, okay, he set the beer down with a little more care…)

The girl quickly stood up, hands raised in surrender. "It's okay! I'm not a shifter - I'm a friend of James. I just wanted to get an idea of who you were."

Sam tilted his head a little, but kept his gun leveled at her. "That doesn't tell us much."

She sighed and folded her arms across her chest. "My name's Portia. I'm a familiar."

"A  _what?_ " Dean asked.

"A familiar," Sam spat, "A companion to a witch."

Companion to a witch? I took a closer look at this beautiful girl...the low cut dress, the high heels, the flawless skin. "You mean, like a complement?" I asked, keeping my voice steady. I remembered being a complement to Charles, and that whole situation was still a source of anxiety and irritation.

Not to mention the scars.

The woman's face contorted in horror. "Hell, no! I'm not a slave!"  _Ouch..._  "I'm a familiar...part animal, part human. I'm soulbound to James."

As Sam and I lowered our weapons, Dean let out one of those chuckles where you laugh because you refuse to accept something. He waggled his finger back and forth and shook his head. "Nononono. See, you can't be bound to James, because that would make him -"

"A witch. Yes. That's what he is." Portia didn't need her canine senses to tell her that Dean had a serious problem with this news. Her stance stiffened as she readied to defend her companion.

"But James is a cop," Sam said, tucking his gun away. Dean gestured at him,  _Exactly!_ I kept my mouth shut, following Sam's lead and putting my gun away.

Portia sighed. "After that case you worked with him a few years ago, he became obsessed with learning about... _that_  side of life. He dabbled a bit, and discovered he had real talent, not to mention being able to use his powers to help him on the job. He's done nothing but good for this city and the people in it."

Dean pointed at the three of us. "You know what we do, right?" Portia nodded, swallowing. "So you know that we gank witches, right?" She hesitated, but nodded again. "So why would he call us for help?"

Oooh, she fidgeted, weight shifted from one foot to the other, unfolded and folded her arms, clearly upset. Dean's head retreated, eyes widening as he figured out what was going on. Portia cleared her throat, eyes flickering to each of us. "He, um, didn't send you that text. I did."

I asked, "He doesn't know we're here at all, does he?"

Portia shook her head.

Dean slumped into a chair, wiped a hand down his face, and leaned forward, elbows on knees. "This keeps gettin' better and better."

Sam held up a hand, "Hold on, Dean, let her explain." He turned to Portia. "Just make it good."

She nodded, seeing her window of opportunity. "James was solving cases left and right." Dean snorted, and she turned on him. "Okay, he used his powers. So what? He was solving cases...helping people." She looked back so Sam. "He got promoted to detective, everything was going great. Until a couple weeks ago. He started getting headaches, awful migraines, then nightmares. He took a leave of absence from the precinct - he couldn't even work. Normally I can read James' emotions and sometimes thoughts, but he started shutting me out completely." She turned to me. "And that's not like him at all. We share...everything."

My eyebrows rose at that. "Everything?"

Portia licked her lips, and a little guilt shone through. "We are a little more...intimate...than witches and familiars should be. It wasn't planned!" she added hastily, "but...it's there. So I'm a little more in tune with his moods and thoughts."

"Until he cut you out," Dean intoned.

She nodded miserably. "You have to help him!"

Sam frowned. "What makes you think this is something for us to investigate? I mean, maybe he's sick, or - "

Portia shook her head vehemently. "No. It's not natural. I know that for sure. James is being too secretive. If it were something...well,  _normal_...he'd have shared. I know that for a fact."

Dean sighed, a long, drawn out, irritated sound, clearly annoyed with this whole thing. Portia took a step towards him, eyes flashing. Dean sat up as she approached. Her finger jabbed at him. "Listen. I took a risk asking you for help. James saved your life. So why don't you cut the bigotry, and at least talk with him!"

Eyebrows raised, Dean glanced at Sam, who shrugged,  _We're here, so let's talk to him_. Sighing again, he turned to me. I still wasn't used to that level of acknowledgment, so I gave a half shrug, indicating I'd be good with whatever they decided. Dean blew out a breath and stood. "Okay. We'll stop by mid-morning...talk to James and see what's what."

Portia beamed. "Thank you!" Once we had their address, she took off, one last wave before morphing into a dog, and trotting through the parking lot.

Dean stared after her almost a full minute, digesting what just happened and that we were going to chit-chat with a witch tomorrow.

Sam and I exchanged looks. He pressed his lips together.  _He's gonna be difficult about this._

I snorted.  _When isn't he difficult, period?_

Sam's eyebrows saluted me with a grudging  _touché_. He unpacked his laptop from a duffel and settled into a bed. Dean handed out beer and sat on his own bed, flipping through channels with the remote. I trudged my way to the couch (the whole five steps) and sat, tucking my legs underneath me.

My thoughts returned to Charles and my time with him. Memories flashed by, and I swore I felt his hands in my hair, his lips on mine. It was surreal, listening to Sam clicking away and Dean tapping the remote, until he settled on an old Three Stooges movie, while my other life played out like a movie in my head. I took a long pull of beer, trying to focus on the hops and bubbles than the kisses and manipulation.

"Kate?"

"Hmm?" I looked up, and Sam was chewing on a fingernail, watching me.

"Um...what was that question you asked Portia? Something about compliments?"

_Aw, shit._  "Oh...um...not compliments...being a complement...to a witch. I thought that's what she was." And there you go. Problem solved, explanation avoided, and... _scene_.

His face screwed up, and I sighed inwardly.  _This is Sam._  Explanations were never avoided. "I've never heard that term before. Portia seemed kinda upset that you thought she was one of them. What is it?"

And...now what? I squirmed a little, and tipped the beer bottle to my lips, draining a decent amount before attempting an answer. I didn't know why I was uncomfortable explaining this. Maybe because I was worried about their reactions. I sort of skirted this story when they asked about my scar, mentioning that Cas had to heal me after a hunt went south with a witch.

"Kate?" Fuck - that was Dean.

Sighing, I faced them. "A complement is a witch's companion - someone they control at all times. Typically, they are…" I could feel the blush on my cheeks. "...a true companion. Like...they, um…"

"They fuck?" Dean asked.

Sam glared at him. "Dude."

Dean splayed his hands and shrugged. "What? She's dodging, so I'm asking."

I blew out a breath. "Yeah, they're sexually involved."

Dean blinked. "So they're what, like fuck slaves or something?"

I winced, because,  _ugh_. "No! I mean...yes, I guess. In a way." Thinking back to snippets of my time with Charles, I remembered how he loved to show me off - his well-behaved whore. I felt sick. "It...for some, it's a matter of control. How much control can you maintain over someone?"

Sam studied me. "So, the stronger the complement's will…"

"The bigger the prize," I finished for him, peeling the label off my bottle, unable to look at them. "It meant great power to control someone like that...to see what you could make them do."

When I was rescued from Charles, I had a really hard time adjusting. I know that what he did was wrong and sick and evil, but my memories of him reflected positive emotions for the most part. Yeah - that was the spell talking, I get that, but it's not like I could change my memories.

My actual brothers dealt with the conflict between their anger and my seeming acceptance of what happened. I didn't have to really explain it much, and they were okay with the lack of details. But now? I felt... _dirty_. All the anger I should've felt originally bubbled to the surface, because explaining it this time cemented the wrongness of it all. Mix in a healthy dose of fear that it could happen again (it's not like he was the only witch capable of pulling off a spell like that) coupled with shame for still being turned on by his sexiness, and I was ready to throw up.

Unable to sit under their scrutiny, I stood and started walking to the door. "I'm gonna get some air."

And I left.

**xxxxx**

I wandered around the motel grounds, trying to shake this awful feeling that settled in my stomach. I absently rubbed at my scars, remembering the amulet shoving its legs deep into my chest. If it weren't for Cas, that thing would've killed me. Thinking back on it now, I guessed that the legs burrowed a good three inches. There was a lot of squelching when it got yanked.

So gross.

I ambled back to the Impala.  _Always_  back to the Impala.

Climbing onto her trunk, I sat for a minute, my palm flat against her, drawing strength, calming down.

Feeling lonely, I called out... _Cas?_

I held my breath and waited.

Nothing.

Sighing, I leaned back and gave myself a minute before going back inside and facing the inquisition. I had just closed my eyes when the motel door opened, and someone came outside. Assuming it was Dean, I waited for him to approach and say something  _Dean_.

So when Sam's voice sounded next to me, "Hey..." I jumped. "Whoa! It's just me!"

"I know it's you...I just didn't expect you." Heart pounding again, I scooted over, making room.

He eyed me a second before climbing up next to me. "Haven't sat up here in a while," he remarked, leaning back and watching the sky.

I matched him, one hand still massaging the scars. "It's home. Well, at least one home."

Sam huffed in agreement, and gave me a minute to settle. Then, "So, I take it you were a complement to a witch on that hunt you told us about? The one where you got those scars?"

I tucked my lips inside my mouth, then released them with a smacking noise. "Yup." Might as well spill it, now. "Don't remember how it happened...we had just finished a hunt in the Northeast, and were eating dinner in some pub. I remember eating chicken. I remember Dean playing darts. I remember you had a burger and fries. But that's it."

"How long did he have you?"

"I think at least two weeks."

He whistled long and low. "That long? Why didn't they - "

I cut him off - he wasn't gonna throw my guys under the bus for this. "The spell was strong. He used some amulet that pulsed against my chest...making me completely obedient and complacent. It took a while to infiltrate the places we went to, get items together for a counter spell, shit like that." I shivered at the memory of seeing them here and there, not knowing who they were. "They slipped me stuff that was supposed to loosen his hold on me. It wasn't easy."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "So what  _exactly_ made those scars?"

Taking a deep breath, I kept going. "The amulet sprouted legs and stabbed me." Sam's eyes widened, and I pulled down the neckline of my shirt. "That's...specifically...how I got these." He faced me a little, reaching out, but not touching.

Sam looked right at me. In a soft voice, he asked, "You okay?"

I let go of my shirt and stared back at the sky. "No," I answered honestly. It was like I'd been on some response delay, and it was just now catching up with me. "I mean, I thought I was, you know? He didn't treat me badly, he was really...hot...and he doted on me. On the other hand, to use your other you's words, he paraded me around like a well-dressed whore for two weeks. But that's the outside perspective, and to me, it's more a weird detached observation. If that makes any sense."

Sam nodded, eyes still on the sky. "You know, it sounds like when I didn't have my soul for almost a year. I remember doing all these things, and I heard about what a fucking asshole I was, and looking back, I'm just... _God_...horrified at the things I did…" He shivered a little. "But my memories of it all? Totally passive. My memories don't have the emotion attached to the actions, for in the moment, you know? Looking back, I can't…" He sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair. "Anyway. It kinda sounded similar."

We sat for a minute, letting the various sounds of nighttime fill the space. I was talking with Sam.  _Finally_. And it eased my anxiety like water on fire.

I wanted to ask more questions, but it wasn't the time. He was making an effort for me, here, and I needed to let him. There was plenty of time to grill him about the time post-prophet books.

And I'd accepted that I was here for the long haul, so "later" it was.

"It does sound similar," I answered, fighting the urge to lean on his shoulder. "I think the whole thing itself has a bag of mixed emotions attached to it. More than anything, I'm afraid of something like that happening again. I couldn't stop it the first time. You guys couldn't stop it. So...it could happen again. That doesn't stop me from doing what I do, but sometimes…"

"...Sometimes it catches you off guard, and you just...you just need a minute to get it together, so you don't drown in it."

_Goddammit_. I missed him. I missed him  _too much_. I scooted closer, and leaned against his shoulder.

I almost cried when his head leaned back against mine.

**xxxxx**

The next morning, we waited in James' living room, cringing, while he and Portia argued loudly in the bedroom. Dean had his head thrown back and was making these annoying clicking noises with his mouth while Sam stared at the floor, hands clasped between his knees. I sat between them, trying to look anywhere but at them or the hallway leading to the bedroom.

"How could you do this? They're hunters!"

"I was desperate! You need help, James. See if they can help you!"

Dean stopped the stupid noise and leaned forward onto his knees. "So glad we're here…" he muttered.

"You had no business doing this, Portia."

"I had every right, James. I'll do anything for you - you  _know_  that."

"This was too far."

Sam sighed and started massaging his forehead.

We heard a thumping sound, then a series of clicks. We all looked over just as Portia, now a Doberman, loped down the hallway. She paused to look at us, then let out a whine, and went into the kitchen. Dean just stared, and shook his head. "I'll never get used to that…"

Someone cleared their throat, and we hastily stood as a man approached. I assumed this was James (I'm quick like that), and he looked like  _shit_. Haunted, bloodshot eyes, peered at us through unkempt bangs that hung on his forehead. A couple days' worth of stubble sprouted on cheeks and chin, which he scratched absently.

"James," Dean greeted, reaching out to shake his hand. "You look like shit."

James forced a derisive laugh. "Yeah, well I feel like shit." He shook Dean's hand, then mine and Sam's. "Um...thanks for coming, I guess…"

Sam confessed, "We figured out last night that she reached out to us, not you."

James shook his head, glancing towards the kitchen. "I'm...sorry about that. I know this is...awkward."

"Witchcraft, James? Really?"

_Way to ease into it, Dean._

James rolled his eyes, taking a deep breath. Before he could say anything, though, Sam cut him off. "Listen, we can talk about that later, okay? We're here now, so just...tell us what's going on."

Nodding, James motioned for us to sit. I vaguely wondered when I would get officially introduced. That's when his gaze hung onto mine for an extra few seconds.

"This is Kate, our sister." Wow - Dean didn't even hesitate when he said that. Made me want to lean over and lightly punch him on the arm, with an  _Aw, Dean_  sentiment.

James' expression relaxed, and he launched into his story. Apparently, he'd been having nightmares where he's killing people, then waking up in bed. He thought they were just dreams, until he found a bloodstained shirt in his kitchen garbage. "The images are so vivid..so real. I can feel them...the heat of their skin, their fear, everything." He scrubbed a hand over his face and blearily stared at us. "I can't tell if I'm really killing them or not."

"Did you piss someone off? Maybe another cop who's jealous of your success, or another witch?" Sam asked.

James shook his head. "No one I can think of. I mean, sure, I ruffled feathers downtown, but nothing out of the ordinary...nothing I could point to. As far as another witch...that's hard to say. We'd have to ask around."

Dean nodded slowly. "Okay, we'll dig around a bit, try to see what we can come up with. Maybe another witch is controlling you somehow."

James sighed. "I'm not sure if that can be done. We'd have to ask someone with a lot more experience and knowledge...I'm still considered a rookie." Dean snorted. "But I know where we can go and find people."

Sam tilted his head to the side. "I can go to the station..talk to them, see if I can get any info on the vics." He gestured at the bloody shirt lying next to James. "I'll get them to run some tests on that blood...see if there's a match to one of the victims."

Dean let out a breath. "Kate and I'll nose around some witches, then."

James sat up. "I have to go with you."

Dean laughed. "Uh, no." He unzipped a bag and pulled out a length of iron chains. "You're the target, so you need to stay put, under house arrest."

James stubbornly shook his head. "You'll need me to get into this place. Portia, too. You're outsiders - you can't just walk into The Club without an escort."

I sat up at that. "The Club? Is that like...a social gathering place for witches?"

James nodded, "And others with talents. It's a safe house. No one from the outside is allowed in without someone from the inside." He stared at Dean. "If I called you here, I wouldn't balk at your rules. But I didn't. And if you really want to help, you'll need to go there, and you'll need me with you."

Dean pressed his lips together and glanced at Sam. Sam returned the look with a one-shoulder shrug, so Dean sighed, acquiescing. "Fine. When can we go?"

James slowly got to his feet. Portia walked in, back to her human self, and placed a steadying hand on his back. He glanced at her gratefully, the spat from earlier apparently forgotten. "In a couple hours - after lunch. People gather in the afternoon." He eyed Dean and I. "Just make sure you...change."

We also stood, and Dean looked himself over. "Change? Why? This place fancy or something?"

James and Portia just blinked at him. Sighing, I put a hand on Dean's arm. "It's a club, Dean, and we're already going to stick out because we're outsiders. We need to fit in." I turned to James. "I've...been to one before. I know how to dress...and I'll make sure he's presentable."

James raised his eyebrows, but didn't ask. "Fine. We'll pick you up in two hours."

**xxxxx**

We stopped for lunch before heading back to the motel. Conversation was generic, since there wasn't much about the case to discuss. But when we got back to the room, Dean tossed his jacket onto his bed with a huff. "So how'm I supposed to dress? I got suits and this." He gestured up and down his body, as if we didn't know he liked dark t-shirts and button down overshirts. "And exactly how much time did you spend in these clubs?"

Rolling my eyes, I picked up his duffel and plopped it on his bed. "It wasn't clubs plural, Dean. Just one. And I was there a lot. People dress a little swanky, but as long as you're not all plaid and denim, you'll be fine."

Sam snorted. "That's his whole wardrobe."

Dean pointed at him. "You're not one to talk, dog-shirt boy."

Sam glared at him. "I was twenty-two, and I liked that shirt. It was a gift from a friend in college, okay?"

Dean flapped a hand at him. "Whatever. I only have jeans or dress pants, Kate, and I ain't goin' shopping for this."

Huffing right back at him, I said, "We'll figure something out. Stop worrying. Jesus, you sound like you're going to prom."

"Yeah? Well, you sound like…"

I waited.

We  _all_ waited.

Finally, "Shut up."

Sam winked at me. "I'm gonna change and head over to the precinct. I got a blood sample off James' shirt, so I'm gonna bully them into running those tests."

Sam got himself all ready while Dean and I rifled through his clothing. In the end, we decided he should wear one of his suit coats with jeans, and we were able to make it work with a nicer shirt underneath.

"There - you're all trendy, now," I commented, heading to the closet to fetch my outfit.

"Feel stuuuuuupid…" he sang, sitting at the table and opening his laptop.

"You'll get oooooover it…" I sang back, smiling at Sam as he finished adjusting his tie.

Sam ran his fingers through his hair one last time, then gave Dean a once-over. "What?!" Dean snapped.

Sam deadpanned, "You're so Goddamn handsome."

Dean flipped him off and returned to his computer. Snickering, Sam walked to the door. "I'll probably be back before you, so I'll start some research based on whatever I find out. I also want to look into James' sudden rise to fame...see if anything pops up in their database." He bit his lip, and nodded at me. "Be careful."

I smiled at him. "You, too. See you later." And with that, he left. "I'll be out in a bit," I called over my shoulder as I entered the bathroom.

I got some sort of a grunt in response.

I remembered Charles' club. Dimly lit and well stocked with expensive alcohol, it was teeming with people. Simply put, it was the place to be. Looking back, I'm guessing it was the exact same sort of club, although there was no way to know that everyone inside walked with the Supernatural. It's not like there was a sign somewhere, blinking in neon.

Charles knew the bouncers, he knew the bartenders and wait staff, he knew most everyone there...and they knew him. He had status there, and me on his arm worked in his favor. I wondered what he told people - how he snagged a hunter, from a family of hunters, and managed to control her so completely that she didn't even recognize her own father?

Dean was right - he should've died more than once.

I was counting myself lucky that this motel actually had a full length mirror in the bathroom. Mighty convenient given this situation. When considering what to wear, I just tried to guess what, out of my duffel bag, Charles would've wanted me to wear...and that's what I chose.

I didn't like flaunting the scars. They were too unusual to just have on accident, and you never know if someone might recognize the amulet's handiwork. So low-cut shirts were out, especially if we're going to a witch bar. I chose a black sleeveless turtleneck, some black pants, and this belt thing the saleslady said was an accent piece that "marked the waist" or some other shit. My motivation for buying it? It was wide enough to hide a vial of salt and holy water on the underside when the pants left no room for discussion.

I did my hair, applied some makeup, and voila - ready for the witch bar.

I cleaned up the bathroom and went back into the room to dump my bag onto the couch. The store person also insisted I have a pair of high heeled black boots to complete this ensemble, so I dug those out as well. The second boot was pulled on and laced up when I noticed it was extremely quiet in the room.

No clicking, no humming, no nothing.

Looking up, I jumped when I found Dean sitting at the table, staring at me, eyes wide, mouth open a little. "What?" I asked, looking around, trying to figure out what was upsetting him.

His mouth moved like a fish out of water, and he actually sputtered. "What - what the fuck are you wearing?" He gestured at me, waving his hand around like he couldn't find the right words to express himself.

I looked down. "Uh...this? The outfit you helped me pick out? What's wrong? Does it look bad now? Goddammit - I hate that! It looks good in the store and when you get home it looks like ass." I stood, twisting around like a dog chasing its tail, trying to determine why it looked bad. I didn't see it, but I wasn't the best judge. Dean knew better than me.

He shook his head, almost angrily, and stood up, slamming the laptop closed. "No! Nonono you're not wearing that. It's...it's tight!"

Oh.

_Oh_.

"So...in the store…"

"In the store, you didn't try it on. It looked like a sweater vest." His face was beet red and he just kept shaking his head  _Nonono_.

We didn't have time for this. I glanced at my watch. "Dean, knock it off. They'll be here in ten minutes. This is fine. I wore less when I was with - "

"I don't give a flying fuck what you wore with that asshole. He  _made_  you wear it - you're  _choosing_  this. And no."

Hands on my hips, I faced him. There were many different ways I could've taken this, so I tilted my head and sussed out the best path. I already went through growing pains with him and I had no intention of doing it again. We had a job to do, I needed to look the part, and that was that.

Best option? Cheeky.

I walked over, noting how his eyes narrowed as I approached, making me want to laugh. I stopped in front of him, and booped him on the nose. "I love you."

His nose wrinkled. "Fuck you. You can't - "

I cut him off. "Dean, you raised me once. We're not going for twice." Then I had an idea. "Think of this belt as Batman's utility belt. Look! Holy water, salt, even a tool for picking locks. Cool, huh?"

"You got all that on there? Really?" Dean said, momentarily distracted. It didn't last. " _Kate…_ "

"I have to dress like this, Dean. It's the costume - like Sam in his suit. Just because his pants don't hug his dick, doesn't mean he isn't trying to seduce the cops at that station to do his bidding."

Dean blinked at me. "Don't  _say_  things like that.  _Jesus_ , now I won't be able to look at him later. Thanks."

"Anytime."


	19. Chapter 19

On the outside, The Club appeared to be an office building. A revolving door lazily spun in the breeze, guarded by a large man in a uniform. There was no address posted, no markings whatsoever revealing its true nature. Well, at least none that Dean or I could see. According to James, there were wards all over the building front, as well as a sign and address.

Apparently it was painted in Invisible Witchcraft Neon.

Dean still wore a slightly sour face because of my outfit, but one sharp nudge in his ribs when we arrived at The Club wiped it right off.

The man out front nodded politely at James and Portia, but clearly questioned my and Dean's presence.

James waved us through. "They're with us," he explained. The guard's face wrinkled up with uncertainty, but he allowed us to pass.

The floor in the front hallway was covered in an elaborate tile design - I think it's a mosaic or something - and looped in concentric circles. James stood on the fringe of the tiling, and motioned for us to do the same. He muttered something in a low voice, and the tiles began shifting within the circles, which now spun slowly in opposite directions. After a few seconds, the tile pattern had completely changed, and at the end of the hall, a door appeared.

"Let's go," James murmured, taking hold of Portia's arm and striding confidently across the floor.

Dean and I eyed the once-moving floor a little cautiously before stepping on it, crossing as quickly as possible and sticking near the edges.

Dean leaned down, "I don't like this. Stay close."

I nodded in response. I didn't like it either. Unease spread through me, and my scar points throbbed a little, remembering the amulet's weight pressing against them.

We walked down a flight of dimly lit steps, prompting me to hold the railing tight. Last thing I needed was to faceplant in a witch bar. Not a good first impression.

At the bottom, we turned a corner, entering a large room. Essentially, it was a lounge. People were scattered throughout, some at tables, others at a bar, still more in small seating alcoves along the edges of the room. James and Portia confidently stepped inside, pausing at a table and glancing around the room.

James said there would most likely be a couple witches we could ask about spells that allowed one witch to control another, and get information about the community in general - whether someone had a grudge against him. He spotted a small group of men on the far side of the bar. "There's Spencer...I'm going to go speak with him." Dean opened his mouth to protest. "I'll bring him over and introduce you, I promise. Just give me a minute, first." Without waiting for a response, he walked away, giving Portia a lingering glance as he left.

Dean was about to call after him, but was interrupted by this syrupy, almost petulant voice. "Portia!" We all turned towards the sound, which came from a corner seating area near the back of the club. A man sat on a couch-like seat, and was waving us over, like...like he was calling a dog.

_Bleh._

Portia sighed and led us to over. As we reached the table, the man's eyes raked all over Dean and I, almost scanning us. Portia held out her hand and introduced us. "This, is Philippe LeChat. Philippe, this is Dean and Kate. They're...friends...from Detroit, visiting James for a couple days."

I smiled my hello, and Dean gave a little wave.

"Well! How interesting. Sit, sit!" Philippe waved us to another couch, where we sat. He wasn't bad looking, but he looked a little off. There was something in his eyes and the way he watched us that felt almost predatory.

As soon as his ass hit the leather, Dean twisted his body away and sneezed against his wrist. He looked up at me, confusion on his face, like the idea of sneezing at random was totally unnatural. I raised my eyebrows, but said nothing.

"So. Tell me how James is doing." Philippe leaned back, sipping a drink.

Portia sighed, craning her neck to find him. "He's... _awful_. We're trying to figure this out, but…"

Philippe sighed, and set his drink down. "It was a matter of time before something cracked. I mean, really, this whole cop-witch thing?" He looked to Dean and I for support. Dean was happy to oblige.

"I've been saying the exact same thing," he said, giving Portia an _I Told You So_ look. He ran a hand under his nose and rubbed an eye.

Portia bristled, but said nothing.

The conversation continued - it was obvious that this wasn't the guy with the answers, so I let Dean handle the chit-chat, while my eyes roamed around the room. Most of the tables were full of customers, and it was really hard to wrap my brain around the fact that all of them were witches, or having some sort of Supernatural power.

It was dangerous, and we were smack in the middle of it. If anything went wrong we were screwed, not to mention James and Portia who _brought_ us here. Absently, I ran my fingers across my chest. The scar points still ached, and even occasionally spiked with sharp pain. I made a mental note to ask Sam about how a body can create physical manifestations based on memories.

I spied James, leaning against the bar, talking to two men. His shoulders slumped, and he wearily passed a hand over his face. One of the men placed a hand on his shoulder, leaning close to speak. I couldn't see the other.

The couch jostled when Dean sneezed again, pulling out a bandana and wiping his nose. Okay, two? Not random sneezing. I craned my neck, searching the area for something that could be setting him off, but found nothing. I widened my eyes at him questioningly while Portia engaged Philippe in a mildly heated argument over what is or isn't allowed between familiars and their masters. Dean barely shook his head before sneezing again, still bewildered at the sudden allergic reaction.

I was so engrossed in figuring out what was up with Dean, that I missed James walking up and tapping Portia on the shoulder. So when I heard, "Hello, Portia, how are you?" spoken by a voice I hadn't heard for months except in my dreams...

"Hello, Charles," Portia answered, rising from her seat to greet him.

My entire body stiffened. _No_.

_Nonononononono_ …

Seriously, what are the odds? My heart pounded in my chest, every breath a struggle. Adrenaline coursed through me, and it took every ounce of strength not to hide behind Dean. Which, yes, doesn't sound very huntery of me, but I didn't give a shit about proving my badass skills right then.

Dean was coming up for air, and I had about a second to get my shit under control before he figured out I was _this_ close to a panic attack. If he sensed that, it'd be a disaster. Being the smart one, I did the only thing I could think of: _avoidance!_

I casually turned so Dean wouldn't see my face. If our eyes met, it'd be game over. He sniffled, and cleared his throat, and I could feel his agitation. I absently placed a hand on his arm in an effort to ground myself, knowing it would appear as if I was supporting him.

Dean was here, I told myself. It was fine - this was all fine. Charles didn't know me. There's no connection here. _Dean was here_. Relax.

_Relax._

Dragging my eyes upward, they landed on his face. _Yup_ \- it was him. _This_ Charles looked a little older than mine ( _not mine...not mine_ ), and a thin scar ran down the side of his face. He was kissing Portia on both cheeks, smiling cordially, and acting like I didn't exist.

Because, _right_ \- I didn't. Not to him...and not even here at all.

There was nothing to worry about.

_Relax._

James extended an arm, and introduced us. "Dean and Kate - this is Spencer and Charles - good friends, and the ones we need to talk with."

Dean and I both stood. Dean shoved his bandana in his pocket and we both smiled at them. While Dean questioned Spencer about spells and witches and whatever, I worked at not staring at Charles, instead facing Dean and making a show of paying attention to whatever the fuck he was saying.

Despite my best efforts, I had a hell of a time calming down. It wasn't just fear - it was a clusterfuck of emotions slamming me at once. There was too much to work through, and no time to do it in.

Dean asked Spencer questions about various spells and the control one witch could have over another (which was nil). He asked whether anyone had a grudge against James. He asked a few other questions, and Spencer answered them, but the information didn't stick. I automatically followed the words and watched Spencer as he answered, noting that Charles was now in my peripheral vision.

He was staring at me.

There was no mistaking it - his eyes were narrowed, his head tilted, and his lips were pressed together.

_Goddammit_.

I felt this little tug in my chest, like fingers crept into the once-holes where my scars now lie as if they were the holes of a bowling ball and simply pulled. It wasn't strong enough to make me move, but I felt it all the same. It hit me then, that Charles was using magic on me, trying to get me to do his bidding. For some reason, (maybe Castiel's grace?) I wasn't really affected...but to ignore it meant he would know something's up.

_Goddammit times two._

Taking a deep breath, I made a decision - play along, do whatever needed doing until we could get the fuck out of here. I knew my Charles (not mine!) was dangerous - that he would kill in a heartbeat. I had no information on this one, but I wasn't taking any chances.

My brain commanded: _Don't put Dean at risk._

Plastering a coy smile on my face, I faced him, mimicking the tilted head posture, and raising an eyebrow at him. He looked surprised, but that only lasted a second before the confidence and swagger was back in full force.

He sidestepped Portia, nodding ever so slightly at me to do the same. Once we were "alone" ( _nonono_ \- we're three feet from Dean...we're three feet from Dean…), he cleared his throat. "So. _Kate_...the friend from Detroit. I don't believe we've ever met…"

I shook my head no. (Didn't want to talk - was fairly sure anything I said would come out a high pitched squeak.)

"...and yet...I sense a connection between us."

Finding my voice, I chuckled (hopefully it didn't sound hysterical). "Is that a pickup line?"

Charles looked confused for a second, before chuckling in return. "Ah... _no_. I don't use those. I find that being direct is much more... _satisfying_." He wrinkled his brow and studied me. "I swear we know each other, but...hmmm…" He reached out, pausing briefly, his eyes asking permission.

_Shitshitshitshitshit_...The tugging became stronger. He's expecting a yes...I couldn't say no. I just couldn't.

Swallowing hard, I nodded, and watched his arm extend and touch my hair. He cupped my chin and my heart almost burst through my chest. Everything around blurred into the distance. Memories of being in bed with him flooded my mind before I could stop them, and his eyes widened.

_Oh, fucking fuck…_

I had no idea if Charles read my mind, noted a difference in my affect, sensed a mood switch, detected my insane heartbeat, or if it was a combo meal of everything. It didn't matter - he knew something was up. I also knew Dean was watching, despite being engaged in conversation, gauging my actions, ready to explode into big brother mode should I need him.

I had to distract Charles - deflect him, de-something him before our cover was blown wide open.

Once protecting Dean became my priority (whether I was really protecting him or not didn't matter - the idea alone did the trick), it was as if a switch flipped inside. A sense of calmness settled over the anxiety like a thick blanket, smothering the panic into submission.

My tongue flicked over my lips and I tucked some hair behind my ear (my Charles loved that), and oh, _okay_ , this one did, too.

"Charles - do you remember Nathan?" Spencer asked, breaking our _moment_ and drawing Charles into their conversation. Spencer glanced at me with a flat look before returning to the discussion of cans and cannots with witchcraft.

Dean's hand was discretely at my elbow, lightly squeezing, simultaneously asking if I was okay and what the fuck was I doing.

_Oh, I'm trying to prevent this witch from guessing that I'm from another reality where_ _ **that**_ _him kidnapped me for weeks - don't mind me._

I leaned into Dean's hand, sending him a sidelong look that simply said, _Trust Me._

He raised his chin in acknowledgement, but I knew he'd demand an explanation as soon as we left.

No problem, there.

"Kate…" _Charles_. "Walk with me."

Dean's eyes narrowed at the blatant command. But that's how Charles rolled...apparently in any reality...and he expected me to comply, because my chest did that tug thing.

So I went.

"Of course," I smiled and barely glanced at Dean (partly because I think it was more convincing and partly because I couldn't face him), "Be right back."

Without waiting for Dean's approval, I took Charles' offered arm, and sauntered off, taking the danger with me and leaving security behind.

He directed me to the bar, and on the walk over I noticed several heads turning to stare. _This_ Charles had presence as well, and once again, I was under the microscope of a dozen or more people. I felt completely exposed - the scrutiny almost unbearable.

Leaning against the counter, he called over the bartender.

Feeling bold, I ordered for us. "He'll have a martini, classic, and I'll have a glass of Moscato."

The bartender's eyes flickered to Charles, who nodded, completing the order and sending the man away. Charles turned to me with an expression mixed with wonder and curiosity.

I shrugged with one shoulder and also leaned on the counter. "You seem like the martini type. Simple, straightforward, no apologies." I glanced up at him through lowered lashes. "Am I right?"

He made a face indicating agreement. "So. Tell me about yourself...and why you're really here."

I didn't miss the "really" he added to his question, but I pretended to. "My brother and I are old friends of James, and when we heard he was having...difficulties...we decided to pay him a visit." I gave another shrug, and figured _heyyyyy_ , why not take a second to hold the conversations this little hunter should be holding? "We're worried about him - he's been a wreck. We were hoping there are spells that could explain what he's been...experiencing."

The bartender brought our drinks, and I smiled my thanks at him. Looking at the chilled wine, I was now a little leery of drinking it - but I probably should've thought of that before ordering it, right?

Charles absently stirred his drink with an olive pick, contemplating my words. When he spoke, it felt deliberate, like he carefully chose everything he said. "There are many variations of spells for controlling _non_ -witches, but only one or two exist for controlling full powered witches or warlocks. The preparation is extensive and the required power is great." His eyes swiveled to me. "I haven't met anyone here with that capability."

I nodded, and picked up my glass, sipping the drink and savoring the sweet taste. _Just like old times._ I wondered if _he_ had that kind of power.

"However…," he continued, "there _are_ spells for planting ideas or thoughts into another's mind, regardless of whether they're a witch or not. Those are complicated, but nothing compared to exacting control over another. Some of the witches here _do_ have the ability to perform those spells."

_Ahhhh_...there it is. "That's really helpful - thank you." Again, I wondered if we were talking about him, or a different witch.

We gazed at each other, lost in our own thoughts for a moment. Conflict still brewed inside me, but standing here, sipping a drink and holding a nice conversation with him...it brought back the tender moments, the intimate moments, and my stomach lurched.

I cleared my throat. "Um...do you know of anyone who may want to hurt him? Maybe they're jealous of his police...work?" The words fizzled on my lips when he leaned close, ignoring my question.

"I am drawn to you, Kate, and I don't know why," he murmured, eyes searching my face.

I held my breath, _Christ - he was close_ , and shrugged my shoulders.

He continued, closing the gap between us. "I sense Hecate...and myself in you…" _In_ me? "And I don't understand how. _*sigh*_ You...arouse my curiosity like no other."

My heart beat sped back up. Tilting my head towards his, I murmured, "Being curious is a good thing, don't you think?"

His pupils dilated, as his hand slid across my back. He pulled me in for a kiss - soft and sweet and familiar...yet fresh. I didn't pull away - maybe I should have. Maybe I've been wanting this for a while. Maybe the story of how this" wasn't my Charles" gave me the excuse to play along, to not be full of rage and hate.

Maybe.

We broke apart, his eyes widened a bit, and his hand slid along my arm and across my chest until his fingers lined up to my scars. I felt the pulsing, the tugging, the pulling, and tried very hard to keep it bottled up, and not on my face.

"Kate!" Dean barked at me from across the room, probably a little harsher than he intended, but there it was. His voice was like a bucket of ice water, startling me out of that reverie.

Maybe?

Maybe _not._

Charles' expression darkened, and my chest actually started to burn. He was claiming possession - and the idea of Dean taking away his prize was not amusing.

I ignored the summons, both praying Dean would leave me alone until I could easily get away, and hoping he'd storm over here and bust this guy in the face.

" _Kate!_ " Fuck - that was his Dad voice. If I didn't figure out how to break from Charles' supposed control, there'd be a fight. Almost absently, (at least that was the look I was going for) I lolled my head in Dean's direction, forcing a smile on my face, while cringing on the inside at his expression. As soon as I saw him, the tugging stopped.

_Freedom_.

Sighing, I turned back to Charles. "I have to go. Thank you for the drink."

I extracted myself from his grip and began the incredibly long walk back to Dean, who stood with folded arms and a scowl on his face. I wanted to run - but the room still watched, so I maintained my pace, my head held high.

Five more steps. Dean's five steps away.

"Perhaps we can finish this another time," Charles called out. I half turned and smiled at him, thinking, only if it ends with a bullet in your head.

But then he added, " _Karalyn_." I froze. His eyes locked on mine, a slightly smug look on his face, like he solved a riddle that'd been bugging him. "I think that name suits you. It's more...worthy. Don't you think?"

I tilted my head, that stupid smile I plastered on my face slowly melting off. I swallowed hard, forcing the bile back into my stomach. Not sure how to even answer him, I just tossed my hair over my shoulder, and took those five steps.

**xxxxx**

The climb up the stairs was tense. Dean had a firm grip on my elbow, muttering something about a man turning into a cat. I was trying to keep up the facade of being poised and calm and all that other shit that was supposed to make me appear in control. As James muttered the spell to make the floor do the hokey-pokey, I burrowed under Dean's jacket, pressing my ear to his chest, feeling his heart beat, feeling safe. Startled, he actually stopped complaining for a minute, and wrapped his arms around me.

_What's going on?_

James and Portia stepped onto the tile, now holding hands. I shook my head against Dean's shirt, pulled away, and resumed my poise, following them outside.

No one said a word as we climbed into the car. James kept looking around, Portia's heels clicked on the concrete, Dean kept giving me looks, and I kept pushing him off.

_Later_ , I promised. He huffed in response.

I tucked my feet under me and leaned against the door, _wanting_ to scooch by my brother, but _not_ wanting to let James and Portia know how close I came to losing it in the club. Dean understood my distance, but definitely didn't like it.

Once we were well on our way, James peered at us through the rear view mirror. "So...no spells for controlling witches, huh?" He glanced at Portia. "I told you."

She huffed and folded her arms, not making eye contact.

Dean sighed. "It was worth a shot, man. And no one seems to have it out for you. Maybe we can - "

"Wait - who said there weren't spells for controlling witches?" I interrupted, sitting up straight.

Portia twisted in her seat and looked back at me. "Spencer did...and he'd know. He's been a witch for a very long time." She reached out, placing a hand on James' shoulder, massaging gently. He faced her and smiled.

I shook my head. "But...Charles told me there _were_ spells for controlling witches, they just require a lot of set up and power to pull off." I paused as Portia and James shared a look. "He also said that no one around here had that kind of ability."

Dean shifted in his seat and narrowed his eyes at me. "What _else_ did he say?"

I blushed, but stuck to the hunt talk. There was time for the rest later. "He also mentioned spells where a witch could plant ideas or thoughts into another's mind…" I glanced at James. "So maybe that's an option for what's happening? Maybe you're being made to think that you're killing those people?"

James pressed his lips together, eyes focused on the road. Portia's the one who answered. "That's probably it! James! It explains a lot!"

He spared her a glance, and kept driving. Keeping his voice and expression neutral, he answered, "That's possible. But no one seemed to want to hurt me, so I don't know why someone would do that. So. Now what?"

It was obvious that James had more on his mind, but wasn't willing to share just yet. I turned to Dean for an answer to his question. Dean fumbled for his bandana and sneezed into it. "Okay...I want a shower. Drop us back at the motel. We'll clean up, find out what Sam learned at the station, then we'll come over to figure out our next move."

"That sounds good," James said, shooting Portia a sidelong glance as he neatly pulled into the motel parking lot. "Just text when you're on your way."

Nodding, Dean got out, with me in tow. We waved as the car pulled away. The second it was out of sight, Dean dropped the act. "Inside, and start talking."

I was way ahead of him. As soon as he unlocked the door, I bolted past Sam, straight into the bathroom, and threw up in the toilet. The anxiety, panic, and general agitation from seeing Charles reached it's limit, and I just...well...lost it.

Sam yelped, "Whoa! What the hell happened?" Both brothers were crowding their way into the tiny bathroom, totally not helping the situation.

I flapped a hand at them while the other flushed the toilet. "I'm fine. Just...it's okay." I turned on the faucet, washed my face and brushed my teeth, painfully aware of the audience in the doorway. My stomach was still in knots and breathing still hurt, but the ache in my chest was starting to fade and both Sam and Dean were here with me, so I shoved myself off the sink and tried to explain.

"That was Charles," I gasped, still catching my breath. See? _Brilliant_.

Confused, Sam looked to Dean, who rolled his eyes. "Yeah - it was Charles. What about him?"

Sam asked, "Wait! Who's Charles?"

"Some witch James introduced us to at the club. He took a fancy to Kate." Dean turned back to me. "Which, by the way, what the fuck were you thinking letting him kiss you?"

Eyes wide, Sam's mouth dropped open. "Kissing? What - "

I held up a hand and cut them off. "The witch I told you about in my reality - the one who nabbed me?" They both nodded, then the light bulbs flickered on, and their mouths formed little O's. " _That was Charles_."

Stunned, they moved aside as I shoved past them, going straight to the fridge for a beer. I needed something to settle my nerves and get rid of the nasty taste in my mouth. With shaky hands, I twisted off the top and drained a third of it _toute suite_ , pausing to wipe my mouth with the back of the hand still holding the bottle. Slowly, they moved from the doorway and sat down - Sam at the table, Dean on the bed.

They were waiting.

They were giving me space.

I was stalling.

I tossed the bottlecap into the garbage and leaned against the wall, my eyes fixed on the beer. "I didn't expect to see him...it caught me off guard. I had a hard time getting my emotions under control, and I was afraid I'd blow our cover." I glanced up at Dean. "I'm really sorry." Thankfully, he gave me a look like I was crazy for apologizing. "The problem was that...he sensed something was off." I rubbed the scars on my chest. "He was using a spell on me - " Dean sat up at that. "And was trying to get me to go with him, to be obedient. It didn't work - I don't know why. Maybe because of Castiel's grace or maybe because I was on to him...I dunno." I stared into Dean's eyes. "But I had no choice but to go with him and do what I knew he wanted. If I didn't, he would've known his mojo wasn't working, and that would've put you in danger."

" _Us_. Would have put _us_ in danger," Dean corrected, pointing at me. "You still shoulda…" he trailed off.

"Shoulda what, Dean?" Sam answered, turning in his chair. "There wasn't much she could do. It's just... _Christ_ , Kate." He gazed at me thoughtfully, then wrinkled up his forehead again. "That included him kissing you?"

Dean snapped his fingers. "Exactly. Didja have to do that?"

I glared at him. "Why no, Dean, I didn't. I just really wanted to make out with him, so I used the whole 'Hey, he's trying to control me so I guess I have to let him kiss me' routine as an excuse." He didn't need to know that mantra went through my head when it happened...that his spell did have _some_ effect.

Stubbornly, he shook his head. " _Kate…_ " Oh, fuck - that _Dean_ tone.

Standing up straight, I slammed the bottle on the table (totally underestimated how loud that would sound). They both jumped. "Don't _Kate_ me. I get that he may not be the same asshole from my reality, but I felt his _power_. Everyone in that fucking club was staring, watching what would happen. There wasn't time for me to worry about whether my big brother would get pissed at me. _I was more freaked out that he'd kill you_." I sighed. "He knew stuff he shouldn't have known. He sensed my fear. He suckered me away from under _Dad's_ nose. I wasn't chancing anything."

It was quiet for a few beats, Dean and I eye-locked, until Sam quietly asked, "Your scars hurting?"

"What?" I turned to him, and he raised his chin at me, prompting me to look down. My hand was massaging the points, still buzzing from earlier. "Yeah...no...not hurting. They're tingling. He knew about these, too. He touched them."

"That's it." Dean spat, standing up and pacing. "He's dying tonight."

Now Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean - we don't even know - "

Dean jabbed a finger in Sam's direction. "We know enough. Fucking witches, man. I hate 'em. All of 'em. Hate. They…" He broke off and sneezed. " _Goddammit_ \- why am I sneezing? The fucking asshole's not here and I don't have cat fur on me."

Sighing, I picked up my bottle and gestured at him. "Go take your shower so we can head back to James and Portia."

Dean sniffed and scrubbed at his nose, "We're not done...I - " But then he sneezed again, growling at the universe. " _Fine_." He pointed at me. "You get...out of those clothes." Shaking his head, he retrieved his duffel and started rooting through it. "Seriously fucking hate witches."

Sam raised his eyebrows at me questioningly. "We met another familiar. This one, Philippe, was a cat," I supplied.

Sam mouthed _Ahhh…_

While Dean was in the bathroom, Sam filled us in on his visit to the police station. He turned over the blood sample, questioned some detectives, and definitely got the vibe that they were hiding something. One of the lieutenants had a file folder with James' name on it - but Sam couldn't tell what was inside.

I changed out of my outfit and back into the comfort of jeans and a t-shirt. Missing Dad, I snagged his plaid shirt out of my bag - the one I was wearing when I got to this reality.

Sam's story ended before Dean got into the shower, so we had a few minutes.

I curled into a corner of the couch, hugging the shirt as close as I possibly could. Sam sat next to me, leaning forward, elbows on knees. "You okay?"

I thought that over before whispering, "I'd _just_ cleared my head of him. I was _just_ starting to sleep without him in my dreams. I was _just_ starting to not feel like a failure for being caught in the first place. And now…" Fuck - I couldn't help it...tears spilled down my face.

But Sam was there...arms awkwardly wrapping around me as I clung to him, burying my face in his neck.

**xxxxx**

Portia flung open the door after Dean barely got two knocks onto it. "I found something!" She ushered us inside and closed the door. "James and I were... _together_...earlier, and - "

"Portia!" James whined, entering the room in a white shirt and jeans, which matched nicely with the blush on his cheeks.

Dean shot Sam and I a look - it was taking everything in him not to crack a joke about doin' it with dogs.

Portia waved James off and kept talking. "I saw images from his mind - flashes of the murders."

Sam leaned in. "You... _what?_ That's not good…"

Portia shook her head, her face desperate. "No! You don't understand. That's all they were - flashes and images. Nothing else! No build up, no motivation, no planning, no clean up, nothing! Doesn't that fit what Charles said? That someone could be planting thoughts and ideas into his mind?"

We mulled that one over. Slowly, Dean nodded. "It does. Won't hold up in court, but it does."

Satisfied, she turned to James, hands on his arms, her eyes pleading. "I told you so! It meant something!"

Sighing, James passed a hand over his face. "Portia…it was _Charles_."

Dean jutted out his chin. "Um...what _about_ Charles?"

James sighed. "Charles is an acquaintance through Spencer. He came here about six months ago, not much story, but lots of ability. He likes to…" His face wrinkled up in distaste. "I wasn't sure how to say this earlier, but he has a history of taking complements and - "

Portia interrupted him, "Charles takes what he wants, when he wants it, and does what he wants with it." She looked right at me. "Usually the "it" is a "she"."

I kept my expression neutral, and said, "I know...I've had some…" I glanced at Dean real quick. "...experience with him."

That's when I started fumbling over words. _How do I explain this?_ Sam jumped in to help. "It's complicated, James, but she's encountered a version of Charles, and an amulet of his. He seemed to sense that connection, even though this Charles has never met her."

James raised an eyebrow.

Dean held up his hands. "Trust me, you don't want to know."

James turned to me. "What amulet?"

I swallowed. "He gave me an amulet that I wore around my neck all the time. It pulsed whenever I started to think for myself, and each time it pulsed, I fell back in line."

Portia's eyes widened. "You were his complement…"

I nodded, a blush creeping up my neck and spreading across my cheeks.

James frowned, and pulled at his chin. "The only amulet I can think of would be Hecate's Charm."

I perked at that. "Hecate? He mentioned that he sensed Hecate in me...along with, um, himself."

Dean blanched. " _In_ you? He sensed himself _in_ you? What the fuck does _that_ mean?"

I shrugged and held out my hands. "How the hell do _I_ know? I don't even know who Hecate _is_."

Sam sighed. Of course _he_ knew. "Hecate is a Greek goddess - she's known as a goddess of witchcraft, although like other Greek deities, she has multiple symbols and affiliations."

James held up his hands. " _Waitwaitwait_ \- hold on a minute." He stared at me intently. "He said he sensed her in you?" I nodded. "The amulet you wore...describe it."

"Uhm...blood red, several stones jutting out from one large on in the center. It was set in gold." I folded my arms as a sudden chill hit me. Sam stepped a little closer.

James blew out a breath and went to a bookshelf. He ran his fingers along several spines as he spoke. "Hecate's Charm is extremely powerful - used with the right spells, it's known for forcing the complete submission of its wearers. Ah - here it is." He pulled out a book and thumbed through the pages. He jabbed a finger at a picture and held up the book. "Is this it?"

And there it was: the thing that sprouted legs. I nodded, holding myself tighter, running my fingers over the scars.

Sam moved in, reading the page over James' shoulder. "What are the effects of wearing it?"

James turned the page, ignoring Sam's little huff at having the text taken away. "Well, that's just it. If the witch removes it, there are no effects. It's rare for the victim to take it off, because their will should be pretty much nonexistent." He glanced up at me. "So...how'd you take it off?"

All eyes were on me, and I felt myself turn even redder. At least Sam and Dean knew the story. That should make this easier, right? "I, uh, had a counter spell cast, started to wake up, and tried to remove the amulet." James kept staring. _Aaaaaaand?_ I licked my lips and finished in a rush. "It sprouted legs and burrowed into my chest."

"What?!" Dean exploded, and I realized, _oooooh_ , I told Sam, who obviously didn't tell Dean…" _That's_ how you got those scars?" Sam stayed _really_ quiet, not wanting to get in trouble for withholding this tidbit. He chose to look appropriately outraged. "How did you get it out?" Ah...I didn't tell Sam that part.

James frowned even more. "You shouldn't have been able to get it out, frankly. It should have killed you. I mean, it would've taken - "

"I had help. I mean, I had to pull it out on my own, but I had...encouragement." Everyone still stared.

"You mean, Cas?" Sam asked quietly.

I bit my lip, nodding again. "It's...I mean, he...uh…" _Goddammit_. "I pulled it out, okay? And Cas healed me by...um...he...stuck his fingers inside the...and - "

Dean threw his hands in the air and began pacing. "Okay, stop. Of all the weirdass shit we've dealt with, this is over the top."

"Really? _This_ is over the top? Over dying multiple times, coming back to life, dealing with angels and prophets, the Apocalypse, Lucifer and the King of Hell... _this_ is what tops the list?" Sam asked dryly.

"Shut up, Sam. This is different."

Portia, who'd been quiet this whole time, spoke up, "Who's Cas?"

"An angel," we answered in unison.

James closed the book, pointing it at Dean before returning it to the shelf. "And you thought my dabbling in witchcraft was fucked up."

Dean glared at him, ready to retort, but Sam cut him off. "Look - let's get back to this amulet. If it buried parts of itself in her, is it possible that there's some essence of it still inside? Even though she was healed?"

James nodded. "And more than that, Charles, whichever Charles you met, would have added part of himself to that amulet to complete the spell. So when he says he senses himself in her, he really does."

_Oh, fuck._

Dean shook his head at Sam and I. "You two have a lot more in common, now." I gave him my best blank stare, while Sam's expression went flat. Dean gestured at us. "Between you, you've had, what, four? Five people in you? And not the good way, either."

Sam's epic bitchface made an appearance, and I matched it. So much so, that Dean gave an apologetic half-grin and shut up.

Sam shook his head and turned back to James, asking, "So what does this mean?"

But Dean spoke up again. "It means, Sam, that we can kill the sonofabitch and not feel guilty about it."

"Dean…" Sam huffed, and Dean gave him his best _What?!_ look.

James shook his head. "I honestly don't know. If this Charles didn't actually perform the original spell, I would've thought that the connection can't exist. But apparently it does, and I'm clueless as to why. I'm sorry."

I waved a hand at him, trying to appear nonplussed, even though my inner voice was screaming. Part of him is _in_ me? That's just... _wrong_. "It's okay, James. Thanks, though."

He smiled at me. "I don't think it's enough to make a real difference in your life, only when you encounter him, really. Don't quote me on that, but that's what I think."

Sensing my extreme discomfort, Dean cleared his throat. "Look, let's figure this out later. Sam said your buddies at the station have a file on you, and there's a locked room in the back where it's being kept."

James ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm a suspect?! Fantastic!" Portia bit her lip, looking about to cry.

Sam asked, "You got promoted really fast...did you upset anyone along the way?"

James cinched his mouth to the side, thinking. "I don't think so. I mean, Ed wanted lead detective, and I got it instead, but Ed's a good guy. He wouldn't turn to witchcraft because of this."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Apparently, cops are turning to witchcraft for lots of reasons." I smacked him on the arm, and he gave me another _What?_ look.

After tossing Dean a sour look, James asked Sam, "So you really think the department's investigating me?"

Sam nodded. "I got that feeling from that Ed Stoltz guy. He had the file with your name on it, but tried to keep it out of sight."

"We need to see that file," I added.

"Absolutely!" Dean exclaimed. "Let's break into a police station which is open twenty-four-seven, get to a locked room where a hidden file is being kept, and get back out without being seen."

Now _I_ tossed _him_ a sour look.

James cracked his neck, tilting his head from side to side. "No problem."

Sam sighed. "James - it's not like you can just walk in there with us."

He grinned. "Actually, I can. We can astral project there, get into the room, look at the file, all of it, and never technically leave this apartment."

Dean wiped a hand across his face. "Aw, shit. I hate that stuff."

James shrugged his shoulders. "It's the only way. I can get the info we need."

Portia put a hand on his arm. "Are you sure you're up to this?"

He nodded at her, touching her cheek. "I have to be."

These little tender gestures between them made me think of my Cas. A pang of longing shot through me.

Dean clapped his hands together. "Wellp, you're taking passengers, because we're going with you."

Sam looked from Dean to James. "Can you do that?"

James was already pushing up the sleeves of his shirt. "I can, but only two of you." He looked at us. "So who's coming along?"

I stood and moved next to Portia. "You two go. I'll wait with Portia."

Sam hesitated. "Sam. Just go." He nod-huffed and sat on the couch with Dean.

James sat between them. They both looked _incredibly_ uncomfortable. I snickered on the inside.

Dean rubbed his hands together. "Just like dreamroot, Sammy. No big deal. Right?"

"Who're you trying to convince, Dean? Me or you?"

Without warning, "Here we go," James intoned, clamping a hand on each shoulder. Leaning his head back, he muttered words in what sounded like an ancient language. His eyes rolled until the only the white part showed. My brothers stiffened, their eyes closed and their heads lolled against their chests.

They sat like that, saying nothing, not moving.

I leaned down towards Portia and asked in a soft voice, "They're okay, right?"

Portia nodded. "James does this when he's on a case...granted, I've never seen him take people along, but he's projected himself many times. It's the only way he can find evidence when no one else can. They'll be fine." She smiled at me, and I nodded back. Of course they'd be fine. I wasn't worried.

At all.

They sat like that for a few minutes. I found myself alternating between holding my breath and slowly let it out. Watching them gave me something to do other than ruminating over the whole Charles thing. I was about to ask Portia more questions about him, when James suddenly leapt up, almost knocking Sam to the floor.

"I don't fucking believe this!" He was pacing back and forth, fingers in and out of his hair. Portia was trying to track him, calm him down, but he just ignored her.

Dean scrambled to his feet first, blinking furiously. "James - calm down, man. Let's think this through."

James stopped and pointed at him. "You don't understand - _I'm done_. There's enough evidence to lock me up."

Portia's hand covered her mouth.

"What the hell happened?" I asked.

Sam opened his mouth to explain, but James spat out, "It's an investigation room - full of the murder details, lab results, everything - including an eyewitness statement!"

Portia exclaimed, "A witness? Who?!"

He spun around to face her. "Philippe."

She gasped. "No! How could he? _Why_ would he? Spencer will be so angry with him!"

James shook his head. "I have no idea what was in his mind. But I'm gonna find out." He moved to pick up his jacket, when Dean caught his wrist.

"James! Hold on. Let's all go together and - "

James shook his arm free. "You don't understand, Dean. I'm done... _ruined_. I can't be a cop again. _Ever_. He ripped apart my whole life, and I think he owes me an explanation."

Dean held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I get it man - I really do. But charging back over there isn't gonna help your case, especially if the community is irritated over you and Portia."

Portia stepped between them and placed her hands on James' chest. "James - _please!_ Let them - "

He grabbed her wrists and through clenched teeth, he said, "I'm taking care of this on my own. Stay here."

"James! No!" She was practically sobbing.

"Portia! Do as I say!"

Sam crossed the room. "James, come on - "

The next thing I knew, James let out a guttural growl, swept his hand from left to right, and we all went sailing. Last thing I remember was hitting the wall.

**xxxxx**

When I woke, I had one hell of a headache. I blinked several times, trying to clear my head, but it wasn't happening fast enough.

An ice pack appeared in front of me. "Here - use this." I looked up at a blurry Portia, jaw set and eyes now dry. She held out the ice pack, shaking it a little. "You hit the wall pretty hard."

Reaching up, I took the proffered pack and smiled a thanks. I held it to the back of my head, sighing with pure bliss when the cold hit my scalp, soothing the ache. It occurred to me that it was pretty quiet...and there were no hovering brothers. I sat up, looking around the room. "Where is everyone?"

Portia rolled her eyes as they filled with tears. "After throwing you three against the wall, James ordered me not to follow him, and then stormed out of here. Your brothers woke a little while ago, and went after him."

I blinked up at her. "They just left me here?"

She shook her head, then bit her lip. "No! Well, I guess ultimately, yeah, they did, but they had to get to James, and you were still out cold."

I thought this over, figuring they didn't just ditch my ass for the hell of it. That's what I decided, and that's what I ran with. I struggled to my feet with Portia's help, and gingerly touched the back of my head. Christ, that was a lump. "Come on - let's go after them."

Portia shook her head miserably. "I can't!"

"What do you mean you can't?" I shifted the ice pack from my right to left hand, wincing at the sensation on my head.

Portia sighed. "James ordered me not to follow him. I can't disobey a direct order. It's forbidden!"

I hid an almighty eyeroll. "Portia - I don't have time for this. Sam and Dean may need help." Actually, I was pretty damn sure they _did_ need help. My gut twisted when she said they'd left, I knew I had to steal a car to even _get_ to the club, and arguing over the cans and cannots of being a familiar was not on my agenda.

She shook her head again, and I resisted the urge to smack it, as I made my way towards the door. "You don't understand! _I literally can't._ I have to obey!"

Irritated, I faced her and snapped. "I guess that whole obedience thing kills the notion of an equal relationship, huh?" Her eyes darkened a little, and I sighed, knowing I crossed the line. In a weak attempt at appeasing her, I raised a hand. "Look - I'm sorry. I'm a tad pissed that they left me here, and I'm worried about them. It's part of my job to be both annoyed and worried at the same time." Then an idea hit me. "Portia - James said not to follow him, right? Was that the direct order?"

She nodded, trying to figure out where I was going with this.

"Okay, well, you're not following him. You're escorting me. Two different things." She started coming around, hope glinting in her eyes, but something held her back. Hoping that was it, I added, "He left a while ago - how can you follow him if he's long gone?"

"Let's go!"

It took all of a minute to spot a nice little Camry in the corner of the lot. Portia casually surveyed the area for witnesses while I deftly picked the lock and hotwired the car. WIthin five minutes, we were on our way.

The floor tiles were still in their _You May Pass_ design, so it was simply a matter of running down the stairs and leaping into the fray.

Which...turned out to be not much of a fray. I did an eye-sweep of the room, assessing what the hell was going on. Spencer and James were locked in some witch battle royale, flinging balls of energy back and forth, Spencer ranting about how humiliated he was when Portia chose James, and how much worse it became when they flaunted their relationship.

Fucking cry me a river.

James looked shocked and angry that his trusted friend betrayed him.

Get used to it - you're dealing with witches.

Philippe's body dangled off the bar, his head cocked at an unnatural angle, his limbs lifeless. Sam and Dean stood frozen nearby - clearly unable to move, but seemingly watching something playing out in front of them that no one else could see. Both had expressions of horror and hurt and loss and pain and something inside me just snapped.

I pulled out my gun, ready to shoot Spencer in the head, when he flung a massive, crackling, ball of energy at James, throwing him over the bar and into the rows of bottles stacked neatly for an evening crowd. Portia screamed, transformed, and launched herself at Spencer. I couldn't get a shot with her in the way. She got hold of his arm in her mouth and clamped down.

_Hard_.

With a scream of fury, Spencer flung her around until she let go, the force sending her flying across the room. She hit the floor with a sickening thud and slid into a table and chairs.

"Hey!" I yelled.

He turned to me, eyes blazing, and I unloaded a full clip into his heart.

The shots were _amazing_. But I didn't have time to admire my aim. With definitely not-human speed, he crossed the room and took hold of me by the throat, slamming me against the wall (what the fuck's with the wall thing?). Air whooshed out of my lungs.

"You know what?" he grated. "There's something _seriously_ off about you. First you come in here like you own the place. Then you steal Charles' attention." Apparently, he wasn't squeezing hard enough with just one hand (although I would've begged to differ), so he added his second, gripping around my collar bone, digging fingers into the hollow of my neck. The room was spinning, and becoming a little fuzzy around the edges.

I tried to wedge my feet against his chest, thinking I could push him off me, but he just moved in close, pressing his whole fucking body against mine, and whisper-spitting in my ear. "When I'm done killing you, I'm going to slaughter those two idiots over there. Friend from Detroit, huh? Well. You're gonna - "

He suddenly stopped talking, his face twisting from _bat-shit-crazy_ to _holy-shit-what-happened_. His grip on my neck loosened, and I was finally able to shove him off me. As his body slid backwards, it was revealed that Charles stood behind him, calm and smooth, reaching around Spencer's body, holding him up.

Charles whispered in his ear, almost caressingly, "You overstepped your boundaries, Spencer. It was foolish of you to mar something I admire." Spencer let out a pathetic little groan, his eyes slid shut, and Charles let him sink to the ground.

I was gasping and sputtering for air. Charles stepped up, nice and close, gingerly touching my neck. "So. I'm thinking we should leave. What do you say?"

The tugging on my chest was back in full force, but this time, I had no intention of playing along. "No," I rasped. "I'm not going anywhere with you." Christ, I sounded like I'd been a smoker my whole life.

The smile on Charles' face didn't waver, but the light in his eyes dimmed, changing his whole demeanor. His hand snaked around my back, pulling me to him. It slid down until it found my ass, the other groping at a breast. Panic and anxiety and anger and sheer hatred bubbled up, and I...weakly pushed at him.

_Goddammit_ \- barely able to breathe, I figured Spencer severely bruised everything and anything surrounding my windpipe. Tears slid down my cheeks and the most I could muster was a whimpery sounding " _No…_ "

"Hey, asshole!"

Charles stiffened and glanced over his shoulder at Dean's voice.

"Get your goddamn fucking hands off our sister."

Charles chuckled, low and sinister. He pressed a kiss to my temple, and murmured, "I'll be right back." Turning around, he held out his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Now, boys. Let's not fight."

Sam snorted. "We're not fighting. We're finishing."

Dean held something in his hands - it looked like a cartoon bomb, with a long wick that was blazing.

Charles laughed again, this noise filled with contempt and dismissal. "Finishing what?"

Dean leveled a gaze at him. " _You_."

He chucked the "bomb" just as Sam yelled, "Down!" I dropped to the floor and covered my head. The flying object hit Charles in the chest, and at first, he laughed even harder, until the thing exploded in green flames, engulfing his entire body in a matter of seconds and wiping that fucking sneer right off his face. Laughter quickly became shrieks of pain, before everything dissolved into thin air.

**xxxxx**

It was quiet in the motel room as we quickly packed, wanting to get out of town before the shit hit the fan. Both witches and the police would be looking for answers, and we didn't want to be around for that.

James and Portia were fine - said their thanks and goodbyes, deciding to pack up and leave town as well.

Probably a good idea.

Spencer left an ugly purple ring of bruises around my neck, a sweet reminder of my first official hunt in this reality. My voice was absolutely wrecked, and it hurt to swallow.

I was in the bathroom shoving stuff into my bag, when I caught my reflection in the mirror. The packing got put on hold for a moment, as I pulled down the neckline of my shirt, and took a really good look at the damage. Memories from the fight resurfaced and I painfully swallowed a few times to get myself under control.

Naturally, that's when Dean walked in to grab his stuff.

He paused, toiletry kit in hand, sighed, then set it on the counter by the sink. Dean moved to stand behind me, pulled me close, and rested his chin on my head.

Our eyes met in the mirror.

He pulled my neckline down a little to inspect the bruising. There was a deep sigh before his eyes locked back onto mine.

I gently thunked my head against his chest, lifting the corner of my mouth a little. _Relax. I'm okay._

He squeezed, rubbing his cheek against my hair. _No, you're not._ He pressed a kiss to my head, then continued packing.

**xxxxx**

It wasn't late at all, so we had a little steam to fuel us getting out of town. After grabbing fast food for dinner, we got in a few hours before Dean pulled over and checked us into another motel.

The drive was somber...I couldn't really talk, and we were all lost in our own thoughts.

Once we got settled, Dean announced, "I'm gonna hit the bar down the street. I need to...chill out for a bit. You guys okay?"

I nodded. Sam opened his duffel and started pulling out clean clothes. "Yeah...we're fine. Have fun."

Dean nodded back, patted his pockets for keys and cash, then took off.

_Awesome_.

Sam looked at me. "Um...why don't you take the first shower."

I smiled at him. "Okay."

We both winced - my voice was absolutely _wrecked_.

I gathered my stuff together and washed Charles off me. And I may have cried a little. I kept reminding myself that Charles was dead. Again. That Dean killed him. Again. That I was back with my family. Again.

Couldn't really be upset about that.

When I came out of the bathroom, Sam was at the table, an ice bucket next to his laptop and his pile of clean clothes. He lifted his eyes to mine, and raised his chin towards the bed. I dropped my dirty clothes on top of my bag and dutifully sat down.

It was weird - all this movement with no conversation. And it was with _Sam_.

Swallowing painfully, I croaked, "Go get cleaned up."

Pushing back his chair, Sam shook his head as he stood up. He snagged a hand towel from the bathroom and set it on the table, beginning the process of laying a strip of ice down the middle of it. "Don't talk. You're gonna be sore for a couple days." He folded it up, making a giant towel cigarette. With string from somewhere, he tied the ends closed (now it looked like a huge piece of candy) and walked over, shooing me up on the bed. "Sit up by the pillows."

Again, I obeyed, wondering if he'd start speaking in longer sentences that didn't involve commands. He pulled the covers over me and sat down, examining my neck, his expression unreadable.

"Sam…" I started. Something was wrong.

He raised his eyes to mine. "I'm gonna take a shower. I'll be right out - _I promise_." He set the terry cloth ice pack on my neck, and I couldn't stop my eyes from closing briefly - the cold just felt so good.

The mattress undipped, and he disappeared into the bathroom.

Sighing, I channel surfed, lying still so the ice pack stayed put. My eyelids were drooping, and I realized I hadn't taken any pain pills. Then again, I was pretty sure I couldn't swallow any.

Sam was out in record time, and I decided to make him sit and talk to me. He was acting weird - even for this Sam.

"Hey…"

He looked up.

I gestured for him to sit with me. He licked his lips, dumped his things on the couch, and came over. "You need something?"

I nodded. "Yeah...for you to sit your ass down and tell me what's wrong."

He sighed, "Seriously, Kate, don't talk. You can't swallow anything to help with the pain, and if you keep using your voice, you'll - " He broke off when I gave him my _Shut Up_ look, huffed, and sat on the bed. I scooted over so he wasn't half-off half-on, and waited.

"What?" He asked, eyes downcast as he fidgeted with the blanket.

Jesus Christ, this was like dealing with Teenage Sam.

I nudged him, until he looked up. I whisper-rasped, "Look - I get that talking with me is weird for you. I really do. But you _not_ talking is weird for _me_." He blinked, a tad confused. "Sam - you're my best friend. I know not _you_ you, but still…" I sighed. "Look, if you wanna talk, I - "

"Sometimes I think he hates me."

Oh. Uh... _okay_. "Who?"

"Dean." There was a tightness around his mouth, telling me he was barely in control. Part of me really didn't expect him to open up - this Sam was so used to keeping it all in. I leaned back, and just let him vent.

He made a derisive huff. "Spencer hit us with a spell before you showed up. I dunno what it did to Dean, but...for me, it made me relive all the shitty parts of my life. Every horror I witnessed, every bad decision I've made, every ounce of pain I've had to endure."

He shuddered, goosebumps rippling up his arm and disappearing under the sleeves of his t-shirt. I yanked down the covers and motioned for him to crawl under. He hesitated all of a second before doing so.

"I've just...I messed up more than I could ever atone for. Dean's always forgiven me, and sometimes I just don't get why, you know?"

I knew. Dean always forgave. Best example?

_Dad_.

"But lately… _*sigh*_ Dean makes connections to people infinitely better than I do. He can get close, he can care, he's better at coping when it doesn't work out, because he never expects it to. When I attach, I…"

I nudged him. "You hold on with both hands."

He nodded miserably, scooching further under the covers. "And I always end up losing. Every time. I keep thinking...this is it...this time it'll work. But it doesn't. The only relationship that's ever worked for me...is with Dean. When I thought I lost him over a year ago, it was like...everything inside me died. _Everything_. I latched onto Amelia and it wasn't the greatest, but it was something so anti-Dean and anti-hunting that it made living bearable. I just put it all away. He blames me for that."

I tilted my head at that one.

"No, he does. He thinks I didn't care, he thinks I don't care, you and he are close and I know he replaced me with you, and Benny, and I just - "

_Whoa…_

I sat up and faced him, the ice pack falling onto my lap, and hoped that disbelief was clearly visible on my face. His jaw clenched, his hands busy with the blanket, knees bent towards the ceiling. "Sam!"

He turned away.

"Sam!" I grated, ending the word with a harsh, raspy cough. Which, gross and ouch! But hey - it got his attention, and he sat up checking me over. I shoved his hands off my neck and held them. "Listen to me very carefully, because this _hurts_. Dean has not replaced you with me, or whoever Benny is, or anyone else. I know that for a fact."

What is it with their need for self-flagellation?

I put my hands on either side of his face, and made him look at me. "Sam... _please_." I pressed my forehead to his. "I can't make you see how much he loves and misses you. All I can do is promise that in no way were you replaced. As for me...I love you, too, Sam. I'm not a replacement for Dean, but I want you to let me in. I'm not going anywhere - really, I'm stuck here, right?"

He snorted, covering my hands with his own. "I always lose the people I love, Kate. I just do."

"Well, this time, I was sent _to_ you. So maybe this one's in your favor for a change, huh?"

"We almost lost you tonight."

"And tomorrow I might almost lose one of you. That's our life, Sam. Doesn't mean we can't be close."

He sighed, long and shaky. "You do kinda grow on people."

I kissed his cheek. "I do that. I'm like a fungus."

He laughed at that, wiping at his eyes and sighing again. "Okay...no more talking from you. Seriously." He reached out and smoothed my hair off my face. "Thanks."

I smiled my _You're Welcome_ and started to climb out of the bed so I could lay down on the couch. Sam grabbed my wrist.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

He wrinkled his forehead and gave me that Sam look. _Stay?_

Like I'd say no.

Crawling back under the covers, we settled down, watched TV, and waited for Dean.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for this delay. The end of the school year is always chaotic. BUT - summer is now here, and I will post updates much more frequently. :)

_**Day 64...** _

_**"**_ You're an asshole," I panted, reaching for a glass of water.

Dean gave me an innocent look full of bullshit. "What're you talking about? I didn't do anything!"

"Oh, shut up. You're pissed because I kicked your ass at the gun range."

"I believe I just  _literally_  kicked your ass on the mat," he countered, "Besides you did  _not_ beat me. My gun locked."

Sam walked in the kitchen and snorted. "No, she kicked your ass." He looked at me. "You shoot really well."

Tossing Dean a smug look, I figured I should say something nice. "Bobby taught me." Or not. "And your Purgatory moves are sneaky and -"

"And they kept me kicking for a year."

I grudgingly conceded that point.

Sam broke in, "I hate to interrupt your pissing contest, but we gotta roll. Kevin called."

Dean stood straight at that. "What'd he say?"

Sam grinned. "He translated part of the tablet."

**xxxxx**

So as I said before, the Lord's only prophet, wanted by heaven and hell, lived on a crappy old boat. It was a piece of rusty shit, and I commented on that as soon as we arrived.

Dean pounded on the metal door, the sound echoing throughout the corridor. "It's fine. It's warded. He's safe here."

I doubted that, but decided to bite my tongue. I wasn't in charge.

Dean pounded again. "Kevin, it's us! Open up!"

The door flung open and we were doused with water from a water gun, held by a young man wearing a ski mask.

"What the fuck?!" Dean sputtered.

"Christo!" He shrieked, the gun training on each of us in turn.

"Kevin! We're not demons! It's really us!" Sam wiped his face and tried to reason with the obviously paranoid prophet.

"Yeah? Well, who's she? Huh?" The water gun pointed at my heart, and it took a lot of effort to keep the smile off my face, so I waved instead.

"Yeah...Kevin...this is Kate. She's our sister…" Dean paused, a smile forming on his lips as he took a breath.

Sam glared at him. "I swear to God, Dean, if you say something about her being from the same mister…"

" _Christ_ , Sam. You ruin everything." He shook his head and mumbled, "But I didn't  _have_  to... _you_  did."

Sam huffed through his nose, and turned his back on our brother. "Kevin, man, it's really us. Let us in, okay?" He used that soft tone reserved for wounded, delirious victims.

The water gun lowered, and Kevin studied us. I could see the wheels turning behind his eyes. Finally, he stepped aside, letting us pass. When the heavy door banged shut, he peeled the mask off, revealing a young Asian man, with incredibly dark circles around both eyes, a dark pink flush on his cheeks, and a sunken, hollow look on his face.

To sum up: he looked like utter crap, and totally not what I pictured a prophet to look like.

Sam had the decency to recoil a tiny bit. "Whoa -  _Kevin?_  You, uh, you okay?"

Kevin swayed a bit, reaching out for the wall to steady himself...and it had nothing to do with being on a boat. "Yeah...yeah, I'm fine. Just...dizzy. And sometimes there are nosebleeds. And my head hurts…"

Dean cut him off, "All in the name of closing the gates of Hell, my friend. Whatcha got?"

I shot Dean a look of daggers - couldn't he see how sick this kid was? He was eagerly looking around the galley at all the research notes scattered on the table, pinned to boards, and covering any flat surface to be found.

Correction - it's not that Dean didn't see it, he  _didn't_   _see it_. Closing Hell was all he cared about.

Kevin waved us, unsteadily I must add, over to a bulletin board which was covered in handwritten symbols and scribbled notes. "Well, it took a while, but I figured out that the tablet lists out trials that someone has to perform in order to shut the gates of Hell."

Sam frowned. "Trials? Like...Hercules?"

Kevin nodded, massaging his forehead. "Yeah, only probably worse. There are three of them. The tablet says that if you're gonna do the trials, you shouldn't be afraid of danger, dying, or...um...neverending torture."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Sounds awesome. What's the deal?"

Kevin sighed. "Well, I was only able to translate the first trial. Someone has to bathe in the blood of a hound from Hell. Then you say an incantation, and presto - trial one is finished."

Sam looked from Dean to Kevin to me, then back to Dean. "Bathe in the - you mean kill a Hellhound?"

I asked Kevin, "I'm assuming that when the tablet says bathe, it doesn't literally mean a bath…?"

He shook his head, then gripped a chair for support. "No, I think it's just being dramatic. You need to get hit with a lot of its blood, but how you do that is probably up to you."

He rubbed his forehead again and frowned. By the time Kevin looked up, he wore this incredibly confused expression on his face.

I had enough - the boy needed a break. "Ooooo-kay...why don't you go get cleaned up, hmm? We'll go over your notes and talk about this Hellhound thing, and you can get…freshened up."

"I - yeah, maybe…"

Dean gave me an ugly look. "Kate! We don't have time for spa treatments. We need to find a Hellhound so I can kill it."

Sam raised an eyebrow at that. Before they started fighting over who was doing the trials, I stepped between them, and gave Dean a look. Through clenched teeth, I grated, "We'll talk while he showers." Dean's head retreated at my assertiveness.

Mine did, too, actually. I've never been that... _bold_...with them before.

Without waiting for an answer, and satisfied that Dean stopped arguing, I turned back to Kevin, a smile on my face. "Go on - we'll talk more when you're done, okay?"

He tossed a nervous glance Dean's way before licking his lips, nodding, and shuffling off.

As soon as he was out of earshot, I whipped around and hissed, "He's coming back with us."

Dean blinked. "Um...I'm sorry, what?"

"You heard me. He needs to come back to the Bunker."

Sam licked  _his_  lips, unsure about getting in the middle of what was now an argument between Dean and me. "Hold on...why?"

"Yeah,  _why?_ " Dean folded his arms and glared.

" _Why?_ Because the kid's about to fall over, that's why! Look at this place!"

Sam's eyes widened, looking around the crappy living quarters. Dean jabbed a finger at me. "We're not runnin' a hotel, Kate. He's fine, and he's staying here."

"Fine," I snipped, plopping into a chair and making a show of putting my feet up. "Then I'm staying here with him."

"Wait... _what?!_ " Dean practically yelped.

"Kate…" Sam started.

I cut him off. "You heard me." Adding a flair of Bitch to my argument, I threaded my fingers behind my head and leaned back.

Dean yanked open the fridge. "Look. He has...food…" There was one wrinkled hot dog, barely wrapped in plastic, sitting on a shelf.

"Fuck…" Sam murmured, running a hand through his hair and radiating Sam Winchester level guilt.

Even Dean faltered. He slammed the fridge shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. I picked up two bottles of pills sitting on the table and read the labels. "So, he's dining on old hot dogs, uppers and ibuprofen. Awesome." I tossed the bottles back on the table. Sighing, I softened my tone and went for Winchester logic. "Listen - you want him to translate all three trials? Then you need him alive, and preferably healthy. Otherwise, our best chance at closing Hell for good dies with him."

Granted, that was a little dramatic, but I needed to get through to Dean. I knew Sam was in my back pocket already.

Speaking of which, Sam sighed and shook his head. "She's right, Dean. This is wrong. We need to move him."

Dean threw his hands in the air. "Fine. Okay?  _Fine_. Bring the kid with us." He pointed at me. "But he's your responsibility."

"No problem," I answered, folding my arms and mimicking his stance.

"Great. Now let's find a fucking hound and get this shit started."

**xxxxx**

Surprisingly, Kevin wasn't that resistant to moving. Another hunter was supposed to help keep an eye on him, but he hadn't been around in a while, and Dean couldn't reach him by phone. When the call went to voicemail the third time, Dean's whole attitude shifted, and he was definitely in the corner of Team Kevin-At-The-Bunker.

It didn't take too long to pack all of Kevin's stuff, since he owned practically nothing. We carefully bagged all his notes and the tablet, bundling into the Impala and making the six-hour journey back to the Bunker that night.

By the time we reached Lebanon, we were all exhausted, even Kevin, who slept the entire ride.

For me, the majority of the drive was spent marveling at how I stomped on their prophet plan, getting an agreement to take the kid with us. I was learning to stand on my own, and it felt weird.

Kevin was so out of it,he barely paid attention to anything going on around him. No one asked which room he wanted - we figured he just needed to sleep more and we'd handle the details of moving in after we all got some rest. So, Kevin plopped onto the first bed we showed him, and passed out.

I laughed to myself as I covered him with blankets. The kid was gonna need some decent food and sleep before going back to the tablets. I stopped myself from literally tucking him in. He wasn't that much younger than me, but I felt like his mother.

 _Big sister_...go with big sister.

Sam went straight to bed, rubbing his eyes and yawning his way down the hall. He stayed up with Dean the whole ride there and back, and the long drive took its toll on him.

And if  _he_  was tired,  _Dean_  had to be exhausted.

I headed to the kitchen. I was a little wired (I napped on the ride. The Impala makes me sleepy - sue me.) so I figured I could at least take stock of what food we had and make a grocery list for tomorrow. On the way, I heard clicking in the War Room. Sitting at the enormous table, was Dean, fervently typing and reading while absently rubbing his shoulder, a slight grimace of discomfort on his face.

"Hey there…" I said, walking over to join him. While I adamantly maintain that bringing Kevin here was the right thing to do, I felt a little bad about forcing Dean's hand. It's not something I normally do, and it still felt strange.

He looked up as I approached, flashing me a brief smile before returning to the screen. "Hey…"

I sat on the opposite side of the table, leaning back and studying him. "Whatcha doing?" I thought he was in bed - it never occurred to me that he'd be researching something. He drove twelve hours today, with minimal breaks, and judging from the way he was attacking his shoulder, the ride left him a little uncomfortable.

He nodded at the screen. "Trying to find a lucky sonofabitch who may have made a Demon deal ten years ago."

I raised an eyebrow. That could've waited until tomorrow. Or at the very least, he could be surfing the net while in bed, so that falling asleep on his keyboard was an option. He definitely chose to work out here, forcing himself to focus and stay on task.

While hurting.

And tired.

 _Sigh_.

Nodding, so I appeared interested, I tried to gauge his mood. His forehead was furrowed in concentration, his eyes narrowed and almost squinting at the screen. I had no idea how many windows he had open over there, but I could tell he was moving through information really fast.

"What'd you find so far?" I asked.

"Well, it's trickier than I thought, actually. There are lots of cases where people had great luck. The problem is figuring out who had a great life afterwards. Like, there's this one guy in Omaha…"

He prattled on, gesturing at the screen, his knee bouncing, and one hand still massaging his shoulder. There was something about him that seemed really off. I let him talk, only half-listening (because it didn't really matter whether I absorbed the words - he just needed to talk out loud), preferring to study him, while trying to figure out what was going on.

I've seen Dean intent on figuring out a hunt, especially when the case involves something seriously nasty. He's been driven. He's been focused. He's let a hunt consume him.

But this was different. This wasn't preoccupation. This was obsession. This was…

Oh, shit.

 _Dad_.

I remembered when Jess died, and Sam was hell bent on taking out Yellow Eyes. He shut out reason, and used his rage and grief to fuel him forward. I told him he was turning into Dad, and I wasn't going to let that happen to him. Dad's path was dark and lonely, and while I knew he did his best given his circumstances, he could have made better choices back then.

A lot better.

 _Their_  John Winchester died too young - so much in the thrall of his need for revenge, that he missed building any sort of relationship with his sons.  _My_  John Winchester started out that way, but he  _smiled_  now. He was  _dating_ , for Christ's sake. And more importantly, his quest for Azazel was no longer based on revenge, but rather a fight for Sam's life.

Cas and Uriel said I changed things by existing, because I wasn't supposed to. What if this reality was the true path? What if everything that happened here, was the proper way, and was how my reality would've been, if I wasn't there?

That thought left me reeling a bit, and the sound of Dean coughing as he choked on some water brought me back to the moment. I quietly got up, walked behind him, and rubbed his back, calming the muscles and encouraging him to catch his breath.

" _Jesus_...thanks," he sputtered, wiping his mouth on a napkin. "I'm a classy fucker, that's for sure."

I smiled at the familiar nickname.

"Anyway, I'm trying to dig up more info on this Alara Clarton chick, who won the lottery and got a promotion in the same day…"

He continued with his rambling, as I rested my hands on his shoulders. It hit me right then: Dean, pushing himself to close the gates of Hell, at all cost, was simply and completely, not acceptable. He was mine to take care of, and I had no intention of letting him blindly jump off a cliff in the name of revenge or an notion of the greater good. There was a lot of unknown in this plan, and until we had more information, it was ridiculous for anyone to assume they were leaping at it.

Holding back a sigh, I began a rhythmic massage of his shoulders, taking care on the one that was currently hurting.

"It seems like she... _ohhhhh_... _fuck_...ummmm,  _okay_ , she didn't win the big lottery sooooooo...uh...I'm thinking it may not be her. But then you look at this Blair guy, and who the fuck is named Blair? He became an overnight success when he wrote some book…" Dean took off his plaid overshirt, almost as an afterthought, so I could easily reach his muscles. I grinned and dug a little harder.

When the cool air hit his skin, he shivered, so I rubbed down his arms, forcing the goosebumps to retreat. Dean sighed deeply, letting his head loll against his chest, the verbal diarrhea forgotten.

When little groans escaped his lips, I figured it was time to get him into bed. Reaching over him, I gently shut the laptop. Dean lifted his head and started to protest, but I was ready for him. I scooped up the machine and said, "Let's move this to your room. It'll be easier to fix your shoulder if you're laying down. You can keep filling me in while I work, okay?"

It was too easy. He stood with a massive yawn, stretching every which way before heading towards down the hallway. I followed close behind, one hand on his back, guiding him in the right direction, ensuring no side trips. He yawned again as soon as we entered his room, gesturing at the nightstand. I set down the laptop, watching Dean crawl into bed, and flop face down on his pillow.

Chuckling, I sat next to him, pulled the covers over his legs and continued the massage as if I'd never stopped. This time, I didn't ask any questions about his research. No prompting would probably ensure a Quiet Dean, and that's what I really wanted.

After a while, he turned his head to the side and sighed deeply. I ran my fingers through his hair, massaging the back of his scalp and neck. His eyes were half-open, and I could tell he was thinking about something. My gut told me it wasn't related to the hunt, so I eloquently asked, "Hmmmm?"

His eyelids fluttered closed briefly. When they opened, his eyes were on me, an interesting expression on his face. It was a cross between wonder and contentment. "You're tuckin' me in…" he murmured.

I brushed his hairline and cupped his cheek. "Mmm-hmm. That okay?"

He blinked sleepily, and curled onto his side, eyes still on me. "Why?"

Okay,  _that_  threw me.

"Why, what?"

"Why're you botherin'?"

Now  _I_ blinked at  _him_. Dean's sub-zero sense of self-worth ripped at me. The whole time I'd been here, I played by their rules. I let them get comfortable with having me around, I didn't leap into my "matriarch" role (as Cas called it), I tried not to push myself on them.

Dean had been my big brother, offering affection, protection, and comfort when needed. It was time to return the favor.

Leaning forward, I pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Because you need it. Because you deserve it. Because I love you." I gave him a little smile to emphasize my point, and kept my hand in his hair, massaging his scalp.

His forehead scrunched up. "Yeah, but - "

"Yeah, but I love you, Dean. The end." My tone was pretty clear.  _Stop arguing. Just accept._

Tears gathered in his eyes, and he tried to blink them away.  _Why? I just don't get why..._

I wanted to curl up with him, make him feel as safe and comfortable as he always made me, but I wasn't sure how he'd take it. I moved to pat him on the head, when he grabbed my wrist.

Tilting my head to the side, I waited.

Dean hesitated a second, before pulling me close. I lay down, facing him, my wrist still in his grasp. He released a slow breath. "I don't do this very well," he whispered.

I half-smiled. "I think you do this  _really_  well," I whispered back, rolling onto my back and lifting my arm, making  _c'mere_  motions with my fingers. He cautiously slid over, head on my shoulder, nose in my neck. Wrapping him in my arms, we shifted until comfortable, and I laughed a little when he nestled close.

"Your turn," I murmured. "Go to sleep - I've got you."

xxxxx

_**Day 78…** _

"I think I found something…"

Everyone looked up, even Kevin. Sam's forehead furrow thing was deep in wrinkle-mode, as he panned through text on his laptop screen. Dean's chair squeaked in protest as he swiveled towards our brother. "What's up?"

Sam sat back, rubbing his chin. "Meet the Cassity family." He spun the laptop so we could see pictures of a very white, very surly family. "About ten years ago, they struck oil on their property. A property that had no business having oil. Nothing spectacular has happened to them since - it was just that one bang-up piece of luck."

Dean frowned. "So what makes you think it's them instead of any of the other people we dug up?"

I leaned forward. "The fact that their luck had nothing to do with them personally, right? I mean, not that the others couldn't also be deals, but this one is more obviously a deal. The others...well, it could've been a lucky break or something like that."

Sam nodded at me. "There is no way oil was naturally there. The geography is wrong, and scientists were completely baffled by the discovery. And get this…" The laptop spun back towards him, and he clicked on the keyboard as he spoke. "Assuming this oil thing was a deal, their due date is in two weeks. That's closer than all the others we thought might be deals, too."

Dean walked over, scanning the screen from behind Sam. He jabbed a finger towards it. "And it looks like they're hiring. No one wants to work there because that one," he pointed at the screen, "is a bitch." He looked up at us, a grin spreading across his face. "Looks like we're going to a ranch!"

Kevin quickly got up and hastened to a cork board, covered in notes and scraps of paper. He lightly ran his fingers over a bunch, before settling on one. "Okay, I have most of this trial figured out. I just need - "

Dean interrupted, "Excuse me? Whadddya mean most? The hound will try to collect, I'll gank it, trial over. What else is there?"

Sam bristled at Dean's second insistence that he was completing the trials, but said nothing. He did shoot me a look, which I returned.

Kevin sighed, giving Dean a patient look. "How're you gonna find it?"

"Uhhh…"

Sam swore under his breath. "Only the people who made the deal will hear or see them."

Sam and Dean stared at each other a moment - only a moment - as they remembered Dean being carted off by hounds years ago. Thank God I never witnessed that. Dean let out a sigh before rubbing his eyes. "Okay, so what do we do?"

Kevin grimaced. "I'm working on that part. There has to be a way for you to detect them."

Nodding, Dean stretched. "Wellp - work faster." He glanced at Sam and me. "Saddle up - looks like we're goin' to Idaho!"

**xxxxx**

We left the next morning... _late_. Dean was hoping that Kevin would figure out how we could detect a Hellhound before we left, but no such luck. Dean seemed to think that decoding the tablet was like translating a foreign language. Kevin's exhaustion and constant headaches said otherwise.

"The symbols move around sometimes, like they don't want to be read. I get flashes of things - images, sensations, ideas - and it's really fucking hard to put it all together," he grumpily explained over the orange juice and eggs I was forcing him to eat.

"Don't worry about it, Kevin," I assured him, pushing his plate closer. "You'll get it."

He picked up his fork, twirling it between his fingers. "I know...but the sooner I can translate this stupid tablet, the sooner I can get back to my normal life."

I bit back a sigh. It was a line that could've (and had) come from Sam. I didn't have the heart to break it to him - it didn't work that way. Once in the job, always in the job. It was a nice dream to think that you can get out, but you really can't. You'd always be watching the news or reading stuff online or just  _waiting_  for something supernatural to happen.

How could you live, knowing what we know, and pretend it didn't exist?

Dean mentioned that Sam did just that for a year, while Dean flogged his way through Purgatory. I had a suspicion there was more to the story than Sam living with fingers shoved in his ears and his eyes closed. As much as Sam talked about wanting a normal life, I was pretty sure he wasn't capable of living one.

After a stern lecture to Kevin about eating and sleeping, which earned me a holy eye roll from Dean, we left in the Impala. Dean was totally wired, blasting music and belting out lyrics as we rumbled down the expressway. Sam was appropriately annoyed, both with the volume and Dean's enthusiasm.

About two hours into the drive, Sam couldn't take it anymore. He flipped off the music and faced Dean, arms crossed defensively over his chest.

Dean sputtered, "What the fuck, Sam?"

That's when I sat up, trying to gauge Sam's real mood.

"What is  _with_  you?" Sam asked in this huffy little tone that actually made me laugh a little. Luckily, I could duck my head and be out of sight.

"What are you talking about?"

Sam gestured with his hands. "This! All this...upbeat, chipper crap. We're looking for a fucking Hellhound, Dean.  _A Hellhound_."

Dean spared Sam a quick look, before glancing at me in the rear view mirror. Dean's assumption that he was killing this hound and completing the trials wasn't sitting well with Sam. Either Dean didn't know, or he didn't care.

This should be good.

"And?"

"And?  _And?!_  I don't see how you're not - "

"If you think I'm gonna start quivering in my boots because they killed me once, you're fucking insane." Dean cut him off, gripped the wheel tighter and actually sped up.

When you look at that statement, and I mean really looked at it, you could see the total absurdity of it.

Sam huffed a pissy sigh, and not-surprisingly, tried again. "That's not what I'm saying. It's just…" He sighed again, turning away and staring out the window. "Why are you so eager to do this? Aren't you even a  _little_  freaked out? It's Hellhounds!"

Dean scratched the side of his nose, keeping his eyes rooted on the windshield. "I'm aware of what they are. Stop telling me as if I don't know. Killing one of those bitches is necessary to close the Gates. So I don't care - it's going down. That's all. Short and sweet."

Dean's tone clearly ended the conversation. Sam's body language said otherwise. I got the feeling I wasn't needed, that this little interaction was strictly a brother thing. So I leaned back, and resumed staring out the window, keeping my thoughts to myself.

**xxxxx**

After about twelve hours, Dean declared it was time to stop.

I glanced at my phone. We were only a few hours outside Shoshone, Idaho, so I was surprised that he wanted to stop for the night. I said as much, and got a grunt in reply as he pulled into a motel parking lot.

"Can't go to the ranch now, anyways. Might as well stop, get a decent night's rest, and then head over early tomorrow."

Sam lifted his head from his phone. "I'm sure the Anchor Bistro, with its sixteen craft beers, had nothing to do with us stopping here," he said, his tone flat.

Dean splayed his fingers on the steering wheel.  _Dunno what yer talkin' 'bout, Sammy._  He barely hid a grin as he got out of the car and walked to the lobby.

The Anchor Bistro was a sports bar with good food and a lively atmosphere. The place was full, but not overly crowded.

Dean was in his glory. "Oh my God - try this fry sauce. It's, like, unbelieveable."

Sam stared at him. "It's ketchup and mayonnaise, Dean."

Fries halfway to his mouth, Dean blinked back. "Yeah? Well, it's fucking delicious."

I laughed. "I'll make you some when we get home." Sam just rolled his eyes.

A different game was on each TV, and Dean tried to watch all of them, while simultaneously shoving food in his mouth. Sam and I alternated between awe and disgust. Food gone, Dean's focus turned to the beer. He mapped out which ones to try and when, then sauntered off to the bar to place his order. Once out of sight, Sam tossed his napkin on the table and sighed.

I kicked him. "What's wrong?"

Sam's eyes flickered to where Dean disappeared in the crowd before leaning close. "I don't like how he's acting. He's  _way_  too flippant about this."

Nodding, I wiped my mouth with a napkin and set it on my plate. "I know. He's convinced that he's the one completing the trials, and there's something almost...I dunno...obsessive in all this."

Sam pulled at his chin. "I know. I think...I think he sees this as a suicide mission. I really do." Worried eyes met mine, full of despair and desperation.

"I see it, too. What worries me, is that we don't know much about these trials at all. Kevin hasn't figured out what happens when the Gates close, let alone to the person doing the trials. But he doesn't seem to care."

"Purgatory just...I dunno...changed him. I mean, how couldn't it, right? But still...sometimes I swear he's almost eager to die." He picked up his napkin and twisted it in his hands. "He doesn't get that he can't leave me again."

And Dean thought Sam didn't care.

I reached out and took Sam's hand in mine. He squeezed back, flashing me a quick smile, before threading his fingers between mine. He sighed, then opened his mouth to say something, when we heard a surprised, "Sam?" behind him.

Sam froze. And I mean absolutely and completely,  _froze_. I glanced up, and saw a pretty brunette standing behind him, shock and incredulity all over her face. Another look at Sam told me he definitely knew this woman, and in no way expected to run into her.

Immediately, I felt like I was intruding on something profoundly private and personal, even though  _I_ was sitting with Sam, and  _she_  came up out of nowhere. I started to pull my hand away, so he could interact without me hanging on to him. But instead of letting me go, Sam tightened his grip, silently begging me to stay close. I nodded as imperceptibly as possible.

Slowly, Sam turned around, his eyes widening when they landed on her. "Amelia…" he whispered, standing to face her, and consequently pulling me up with him.

Her eyes darted to me, her expression both irritated and curious. It was awkward as they both just stared at each other, my hand firmly in Sam's grip, now at his side.

Finally, she broke the silence. "What are you doing here?"

Sam glanced at me, licking his lips and nodding at Dean, who was now pushing his way back to the table, three beers in hand. "Uh...road trip. You? Where's Don?"

Oooh, she tucked her hair behind her ears, her cheeks turning red. "He's in the bathroom."

Sam nodded, his lips pressed together, swallowing hard, tensing all over. Squeezing his hand, I stepped closer. A tremor shot through him, barely noticeable unless you were right next to him.

I still hadn't been introduced, which was becoming more obvious by the nanosecond, and Dean was about ten feet away from the table. Feeling protective, I moved a little in front of Sam, a friendly smile on my lips. "Hi - I'm Kate," I said, holding out my free hand for a shake.

Amelia gaped at me, embarrassment forgotten. "What are you, like,  _twenty?_ "

My eyes widened at the sharp tone, and her expression told me that she realized how she sounded, too. Her cheeks now  _flamed_.

Sam straightened to his full height, ready to defend me.  _Please_. Like I needed defending from some chick.

Bottles clanked on the table behind us, and I glimpsed Dean looking over, assessing the situation. I stepped fully in front of Sam, my left hand twisted behind my back, still entwined with his. Before I could say anything, she held up her hands in surrender. "You know what? Nevermind. It's...it's none of my business." She looked up at Sam, sadness and longing in her eyes. She sighed, turned, and walked away.

Sam started after her, but then stopped.

Dean stepped in front of us, frowning over his shoulder at Amelia's retreating back. "What was that all about?"

I swiveled my head up at Sam, figuring he'd explain. Jaw clenched, he shook himself and finally let go of me. After rubbing his eyes, he murmured, "I'm going for a walk. I'll meet you at the room."

Dean's eyes narrowed.  _Mine_  narrowed. Avoiding our gazes, Sam purposefully walked out of the bar, never looking back at us or where Amelia now sat with some guy. Her back was to the door, so she never saw him leave.

I sat heavily in a chair, helping myself to one of the beers Dean brought back.

He sat next to me, picked up a bottle and gestured at me with it. "I repeat - what was that all about?"

Shrugging, I took a really long pull. "I dunno. They know each other, and she was seriously upset and jealous. But he didn't explain who she is."

Dean grunted, swallowed some of the amber liquid, and stared at the label. He turned to look at Amelia, then asked, in a thoughtful tone, "Do you know her name?"

And here's where it got interesting. "Yeah - Amelia. And the guy she's with is Don."

Dean's face blanched, and he set his bottle down with a thud.

"What? Who is she?" Now my curiosity was flaring, and I craned my neck to watch her.

"She's the girl Sam holed up with while I was in Purgatory."

Oh.

_Oh…_

I bit my lip. "Well... _snap_."

Dean rolled his eyes at my attempt to be hip. "Yeah. Little bit of a sore subject." He glanced at the beer, then at me. "We should find him."

I was already thinking that, and draining my bottle. "Way ahead of you. C'mon."

We rose to leave, Dean peeling some dollar bills out of his pocket for the waitress while I pushed my chair in. Neither of us saw her approach until she spoke. "I'm sorry I was so rude before."

Amelia stood there, wringing her hands, peeking over her shoulder where that Don guy sat. "I...I was so...um...unprepared? that I wasn't thinking, and...and asking your age was just so...shitty. Um...so."

Then we stood there.

Dean glanced at me, and I nodded at him to go deal with the bill. After one last look at Amelia, he walked away. I turned back, and smiled. "It's okay. Really. Sam didn't expect you here, either, and he really should've clarified that I'm his sister, and that we're with our brother, Dean."

She did a double take. "Wait - what?  _Sister?_  And... _Dean?_  I thought he was…" She laughed under her breath and lowered her eyes. "That figures."

I took a small step towards her, prompting her to look back at me. Since she approached him, I had a feeling that Sam's the one who did the leaving. "Listen...Sam didn't give me details on what happened with you, so I can't really comment on why you two aren't together. But...I  _can_  say, that Sam doesn't make choices lightly. Leaving wasn't an easy decision for him."

She gave me this look...sort of a mix of a thank you for acknowledging her being dumped, and gratefulness for reminding her that Sam's really a serious guy...that he didn't just shrug his shoulders and decide to walk away on a whim.

The guy she was with - Don - came up just then, putting his arm around her and pressing a kiss to her temple. "Hey baby - what's up?" He looked at me expectantly, waiting for an introduction.

Amelia kind of shook herself, and gestured at me. "This is Kate...I bumped into her earlier, almost spilling her beer, and I just wanted to apologize again for being so clumsy." She let out this nervous little laugh, and I joined in.

I can lie, too.

Waving it off, I giggled (ugh), "Like I said, no big deal. It was nice meeting you, though!"

We both made an annoying girly laugh, when Dean walked up, eyebrows raised at the noise. Facing him, I grinned. "Ready to go, sweetheart?"

Smooth as can be, he answered, "All set." He flashed a smile at Amelia and Don, placed his hand on my back, and propelled me to the door.

Once outside, we dropped the pretense and let out a collective breath before heading to the motel.

Dean was quiet on the walk, scuffling his feet a couple times on the pavement, hands deep in his pockets. I gently bumped into him, making him stumble. "What's going on in there?"

Huffing, he ran his fingers through his hair. "Sam could've had a normal life with her. He  _wanted_  a normal life with her. Until I came back." He stopped and stared at the sky, the evening breeze rippling his jacket and making him shiver. "I know her husband came back from the Middle East, after she thought he was dead, and that made things awkward. But I think Sam would've fought for her if I weren't around."

I reached out and tugged on his jacket. "Hey...this isn't your fault. You know our life. Normal doesn't work."

He sighed. "Yeah, but - "

I cut him off. "But nothing, Dean. I'm willing to bet she doesn't know he hunted, that he hunts now. That's a really bad start, if you ask me. Too many secrets, too much he can't or won't explain to her."

We started walking again, and although Dean's eyes were rooted on the ground, I knew he was listening.

"Jess never knew we hunted, and I think that was a huge mistake on Sam's part. There were so many quirks she never understood - like why he needed so much salt, or why he muttered things under his breath when meeting new people. It was ridiculous. It worked for the two years they dated, but...I dunno. It's a lot to hide. And once you know what we know, you can't really  _hide_  it, and while you can try, you can't pretend it doesn't exist. It's everywhere, tainting everything you see and do. You can't shut it off."

Even though I was blurring my reality with his, he accepted what I said with a grunt of agreement. It was getting seamless like that, making conversations like this easier and easier. We turned into the motel parking lot. When we reached the Impala, Dean leaned against her, eyes still on his feet.

I stood next to him. "We both know what Sam wants - he uses the word  _normal_ , but he really means  _safe_. He wants  _security_ , which includes stability." I nudged him with my foot, and he looked up at me. " _You_  give him stability. Without you...he has to look elsewhere. He doesn't always realize that you're his rock, Dean, because you're also part of his  _in_ stability." Dean winced at that. "But that's not your fault. You didn't kill your mother. You didn't put Demon blood in him. You didn't make Dad flip the fuck out and become a hunter. You're just attached to it all."

He sighed, giving me that lost, unloved little boy look.  _Erg…_

I moved close, taking his jacket in my hands and tugging on it. "You're our home. He'll be okay without Amelia. He'll  _never_  be okay without you."

I gave him a minute for that to sink or. Or bounce off. Whatever. I spoke the truth whether he listened or not. "C'mon - let's see if he's back."

Together, we walked to the room.


	21. Chapter 21

Sam wasn't in the room when Dean and Kate returned from the bar. Deciding not to worry, Dean pulled out a bag of weapons and began the ritualistic chore of cleaning them. Of all the chores they did, he loved this one.

There was history in it.

Many nights growing up, Dean fell asleep to the sound of John cleaning weapons. It reminded him that he was safe, that his father was on watch, and prepared to handle anything. Every time Dean cleaned a weapon, he thought of John, that feeling of security, and he made sure each item was spotless in his memory.

From the table, Dean was able to monitor things just by sweeping his eyes across the room. Kate lay on Sam's bed, laptop out, patiently waiting for him to return. Dean thought about her speech earlier, and marveled once again, at how she changed their lives in only a couple months.

There was a knock at the door in the Winchester pattern, and in walked Sam. He barely glanced at Dean, nodding a hello. Dean nodded back, releasing the tension that gripped him for the last half hour. He was split on whether Sam would return. Almost sagging in relief, Dean returned to cleaning the shotguns, one eye and ear on his siblings.

"Sam - c'mere. You gotta see this."

Sam paused for a brief moment, mid-reach for his bag. "What is it?"

Kate's eyes were still on the laptop screen, her fingers clicking on the keyboard. "You ever heard of a show called Ancient Aliens?"

Sam left his bag and walked over, a half-smile on his lips. "Yeah...the one with that host who has awesome hair?"

Kate looked up and grinned at him. "That's the one! Lookit these...they're  _hilarious_."

Dean traded out a dirty rag for a clean one, watching Sam sit on the bed next to her, eyes also on the screen. She pointed at it, watched him expectantly, and a couple seconds later, Sam burst out laughing. Kate laughed with him, clicked again, and pointed at the screen. He laughed even harder, which made Dean smile.

Kate nudged Sam. "Go get changed - I found a whole site of them."

Still chuckling, Sam grabbed his duffel and disappeared in the bathroom. Kate looked up, and met Dean's gaze. She shrugged and smiled.

Dean shook his head. He was pretty sure Sam would've returned with some hardcore sulking. Instead, she got him smiling, even laughing. The whole mess wasn't forgotten, but she was making it tolerable.

She made it better.

Sam ended up crawling into bed with her, both huddled over the screen, giggling like little kids. Eventually, Kate snaked her arm around him, and he rested his head on her shoulder.

Dean always knew he was doing the trials. Now? He was prepared to do whatever it took to be the one who completed them. Despite what Kate said, Sam needed to try for a normal life, regardless the outcome. Getting out of hunting was ingrained in Sam's sense of self, whereas Dean couldn't make it  _without_  hunting.

He knew this - because it didn't work out with Lisa.

_Another thing he ruined._

Kate, however, could help Sam achieve what he wanted. She could bridge their hunting with normalcy, whatever Sam's sense of normal was. They could have a life, they could move forward, they could survive.

They  _would_  survive.

Maybe Dean  _was_  Sam's rock...but he felt like the rock was tied to Sam's ankle, and Sam was constantly thrown into the ocean.

Keeping with the metaphor, Kate was the life preserver, doing for Sam what Dean felt he could never do.

They would survive. Dean would see to that.

**xxxxx**

It was sometime in the middle of the night. Everything was dark and quiet, the kind of peaceful that can only exist between midnight and sunrise. Sam stretched in bed, reaching out towards where Kate was supposed to be sleeping.

He mentally sighed at the truly fucking bizarre ending to yesterday. If someone told him he'd run into Amelia while on a hunt, he'd have bought a lottery ticket to maximize those odds. The whole relationship with Amelia ended so... _sour_...especially given how Dean tricked him with that text. When he left the bar, he almost kept walking, not caring where he ended up.

Fuck Hell, Fuck the trials, and Fuck the world.

Okay, he didn't really mean that, but for one second, that's how he felt.

But he came back, because he always came back. Dean was this fucking irritating beacon that called to him regardless of where he was. Even in the Cage, he felt it. It's the only thing that kept him going, when helping Adam was beyond his ability.

His hand hit nothing but mattress, and he figured she was in the bathroom.

Is that what woke him? Her leaving the bed? He yawned and rolled over, hoping to find a comfortable spot and fall back asleep.

That's when he heard it.

A small, pitiful whimper.

He knew that sound - it was a  _Dean's-having-a-nightmare_  sound.

He  _hated_  those. He heard them a lot, and he hated them. When Dean came back from Hell, Sam tried waking him, talking to him, comforting him as best as he could. Most of the time, Dean pushed him away, insisting he was fine, wanting to keep up the facade of Big Brother. A couple times, he curled in on himself, allowing physical contact and soothing words to settle him down.

Those were few and far between.

Post-purgatory?

Forget it.

Sam knew Dean was pissed at him, so accepting comfort was way outside the realm of possibilities. Didn't stop Sam from hoping he could do something to help. Didn't stop him from hating those noises.

"Shhhh...it's okay...you're dreaming…"

Sam's eyes snapped open. He heard Dean mumble a reply, and Kate softly sighed. "Knock it off. We both know you're not invincible, so lay off the act. Besides, he's passed the fuck out. So just stop, okay?"

Sam carefully angled his head so he could get a peek at what was going on. Kate sat on the edge of Dean's bed, wiping his forehead with something. Dean held her other wrist close, and Sam could hear his ragged breathing.

"Go back to sleep." She leaned down and pressed her forehead to his before planting a quick kiss on his cheek.

Sam's breath caught.

Dean nodded, and mumbled, " 'M okay. Go back to him. Worried…"

That figured. Dean had the nightmare, and was more worried about Sam.

Kate chuckled. "I can watch both of you at once. Been doing it for a while. Relax, okay?"

Dean sighed and nodded again, rolling over, still holding her wrist.

Sam bit his lip. He'd never seen Dean compliant to another's care before - even with Ellen. Kate looked over, caught Sam's eye, and winked.

_I got him - go to sleep. I'll be back in a bit._

Sam exhaled through his nose, swallowed, then closed his eyes. But his mind kept whirling.

It was so obvious, that he almost laughed out loud. Running into Amelia suddenly seemed like the best thing to have happened in a long time, because it reminded him of the truth. Sam knew, that despite all his hopes, he would never, ever, get out of hunting. He used the word normal, but he knew it was impossible.

He kicked himself every day he was with Amelia, because he  _didn't_  lay salt lines, he  _didn't_  stuff protection satchels in the walls, and he  _didn't_  ward their house against demons or angels. He tried that with Jess, and she still died. Warding meant he wasn't out. If Dean was gone, and he couldn't reach him, then he was done.

Completely done.

That left everything open and vulnerable and felt all sorts of wrong, but that's what he did. And it was hard.

Still, despite his intentions, it all ended with a horrific crash anyway, and it had nothing to do with the supernatural.

Sam was, plainly put, a failure at living. There was no hope for him.

But Dean...Dean could be saved. Dean  _could_  survive. Kate would make sure of it. He could have a life, and she could help him bridge hunting with normalcy, and help Dean see his value as a hunter, as a brother, as a person.

Right then, Sam vowed to be the one completing the trials. He'd do whatever it took to make sure Dean did not face a Hellhound, that the blood bath was his, and his alone.

All he did was make shitty decisions that dragged Dean down. Dean would fight to surface, in the name of protecting Sam, but in the end, it wasn't life that kept throwing crap cards at them.

It was Sam.

It was all Sam.

Kate could fix it. Kate  _would_  fix it. She was the life preserver, doing for Dean what Sam could never do.

They would survive. Sam would see to that.

**xxxxx**

_**Kate…** _

I needed coffee. Not a tiny cup pilfered from the motel's attempt at a continental breakfast offering. I needed extra shots of espresso, eagerly waiting to hit my bloodstream.

There wasn't much sleeping done last night. Sam's always been restless when he slept, and when troubled, he excelled at it. Add in a healthy dose of Dean's nightmares, and voila - I was  _tiiiiiiired_.

Both boys were oddly cooperative as we packed to leave, despite the early hour. My "Stupid Brother Alert" was ringing off the hook, telling me they were up to something that involved needing a smack on the head, but I couldn't figure it out.

Not yet, anyway.

We only had a few hours until we got to the ranch, and I really preferred having caffeine before needing to perform for the Cassity family. Dean promised fresh coffee as soon as possible. Right before ruffling my hair. Sam echoed the promise, and started checking some app that scanned highway exits for stores and restaurants.

Oh yeah - something was up. I just hoped I wouldn't have to seriously hurt either of them when I sorted it all out.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m assuming readers have some working knowledge of Season 8, so I’m skimming over a lot of things, like descriptions of characters or a lot of explanation surrounding a hunt. It’s not my intention, or desire, to do an in-depth recreation of episodes. I just want to tweak some of them a tiny bit for this story…

_**Day 90...** _

The ranch was  _huge_. That was an understatement, but the easiest way to describe it.

There were stables for the horses, acres for riding and grazing, coach houses, barns, and then the main house. Which only housed two people.

Rich folk amazed me.

The ranch manager, Ellie, hired us on the spot when Carl Granville, the supposed trophy husband to the bitch who owned the ranch, playfully thunked her on the arm, telling her she should give us a shot because we looked "super nice".

We'd been here a almost a week, getting to know the layout and the owners.

Alice Cassity is part of the family that owned the ranch, AKA: The Bitch. Carl, her husband, lived with her. He seemed like a super nice guy - nothing spectacular, just a regular, nice dude. Alice seemed distant and snobby, not quite the type to hook up with someone like Carl.

_That_  was a flag.

Ellie managed everything, especially the horses. She was our boss, and assigned me to house duty ( _hooray…_ ) and the guys to... _literal_  doody ( _double hooray!_ ).

On the sixth night, Dean grumbled as we ate dinner. "I can't believe you're sitting pretty in the house while we're shoveling horse shit in the barn."

I tossed my hair over my shoulder. "I can't believe you're still bitching about it. I'm not exactly sitting pretty. There's laundry, cooking, cleaning, and more cleaning. I think my hands will smell like bleach forever."

Dean rolled his eyes and went back to eating his spaghetti.

Sam glanced around to make sure we were alone. "Okay, what do we have so far?"

"Not much to have," Dean mumbled, the last of his pasta slowly being slurped into his mouth. He sort of chewed, swallowed, then continued. "It's a big fucking ranch."

Sam huffed and rolled his eyes. "You've been working more with Ellie. Has she said anything about the family and how oil got discovered here?"

Dean shook his head. "No - tried a couple times to engage her in conversation, but - "

" _Just_  conversation?" I asked, innocently, dabbing at the corners of my mouth with a napkin.

Dean tossed me an annoyed look. "I'm on the job, thank you very much."

Sam snorted. "So?"

Dean pointed his fork at him, sauce splattering, "I'm focused on the deal coming due, that's all."

Sam cleared his throat and wadded up his napkin. "Yeah...speaking of which…"

Oh, here we go.

Dean paused, setting his fork on his plate. He calmly wiped his mouth before meeting Sam's eyes. "What about it?"

Sam picked up his plate and headed for the patio door of the main house. Dean and I followed, Dean swaggering a bit, almost challenging Sam.

_Sigh._

I slid open the door, letting both boys inside before closing it behind them. Alice and Carl were eating dinner on one of the other outside patios - supposedly a romantic, candlelit evening. I made them pasta, too. What was good for the goose...

No one knew where Ellie was - she never showed up for meals.

Biting back a sigh, I started washing dishes, while my brothers started the fight that'd been brewing for a while.

"We still need a way to detect the Hellhound. Did Kevin text you anything yet?"

Dean shook his head. "Not yet. I've been buggin' him, and the last text he sent told me to quit buggin' him."

A laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it.

"Well," Sam continued, "What're we gonna do if he can't come up with anything?"

Dean shrugged, leaning back in a chair and folding his arms across his chest. "Stick like glue to Alice and wait for her to flip out. Then we'll know they're here."

Sam sighed. "Dean, we both can't stay close to her."

Dean smiled. "Of course, not. You'll be somewhere safe with Kate,  _I'll_  be with Alice."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "We never agreed to that."

Dean's narrowed right back. "We didn't have to. That's just what's happening."

I shut off the water and walked around the counter, ready to step between them if necessary.

In a warning tone, Sam started, "Dean…"

He was interrupted by screaming, a hideous howling, and something spattering against the patio door.

It all happened so fast, we barely had time to blink.

"What the fuck was that?" Dean yelped, leaping up from his chair.

We did pause for one second, and gaped at each other.  _Wait - was that a Hellhound?_

I flipped the light switch for the patio and we all just stared at the sliding door. It was completely covered in blood, and a couple chunks, slowly sliding to the ground.

Dean scrambled for the  _regular_  door that was conveniently located next to the  _sliding_  door, and barrelled outside, Sam and I at his heels. Alice was there, eyes wide with horror and hands covering her mouth. Ellie was running towards us, slowing to a stop at the patio's edge.

Carl, or rather, what was  _left_  of Carl, was sprawled on the ground, claw and bite wounds evident all over his body. Or...body  _parts_.

Ellie gagged, turning away and breathing heavily, hands on her hips in an effort to calm down. Alice just stared - unable to process what just happened.

Speaking of which…

"What happened?" Dean demanded, steering Alice away from the body and gesturing for Sam and I to take a closer look.

Alice wrapped her arms around herself. "I - I don't know! We were having dinner...Carl was going to get another bottle of wine...I heard a wolf howling and then...and then he was screaming…" Her voice trailed off, and she just stood there, trying not to look at her husband's mutilated body.

Ellie finally found her voice. "I'm calling the police." She turned and left, one hand covering her mouth.

Sam and I inspected the body, while Dean moved Alice further away. There were clear gash wounds across his middle, but we both knew it wasn't a wolf that did this damage.

"My God, Sam, those claw marks…"

Sam grimaced. "I know. They're huge. One swipe and... _yeah_. It's over, if they get close enough."

Shuddering, I remembered the Hound I saw in Hell, during one of my leaps. We'd been talking about them for ages, but the reality of these beasts didn't hit me until now. I glanced over at Dean, not wanting to even  _think_  about him getting clawed to death by one of them.

Sam cleared his throat, and moved to examine the rest of the patio. My eyes followed him, tears gathering, as I thought of him dealing with Dean's body, alone, all those years ago.

He looked over at me. "You okay?"

I cleared my throat. "Yeah. Just...yeah. I'm fine." I ran my fingers through my hair and let out a breath. "So. Now what?"

"We find another fucking deal, that's what." I almost jumped as Dean walked up, arms folded and a seriously pissed off look on his face. "I can't believe it was  _right fucking here,_  and I missed it."

Sam's jaw clenched. His eyes flickered to me before answering. " _Right_. Well think about this, though - we heard it howl. So did Alice. That means we can track it a little, when it gets close to its victim."

_Hooray…_

Dean threw his hands in the air. "Fantastic. Wish that coulda helped us. Whatever. I'm gonna go pack. I bet the cops will want to talk with us, but we can probably leave after." He shook his head in disgust, then walked away towards our rooms.

"What the hell?" Sam muttered, watching Dean stomp off.

"I know. This is stupid." I stood up and turned away from the body.

Sam sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. His mouth opened to say something, but the sound of sirens in the distance made him close it.

"Great - the cops are here. You go see if you can calm Mr. Enthusiasm. I'm gonna go make sure Ellie is okay."

Nodding, we parted ways, and I headed off to confront Dean.

**xxxxx**

"C'mon - it's too late to leave, now. Besides, it'll look real suspicious if we just bail tonight." I was trying for any sort of reason to get him to just stop for a minute. Surprisingly, the police didn't bother to interview us, so sure, there was nothing holding us here. But leaving at night was dumb - we'd need to stop and sleep soon, so why not just wait until morning?

Instead, Dean was pulling clothes out of a dresser and shoving them into his bag at record speed. "It's a bust, Kate. The Hellhound's gone - slipped in right under our noses. We need to find a new case, and try again." He paused to point at me. "At least we know we can hear them. Just need a way to see them." He turned back to the dresser and talked over his shoulder. "Kevin needs to look harder."

I swallowed my irritation, knowing that in this state, it wouldn't take much to make him more angry. "Listen. I agree with you - on all of that." Well...not the Kevin part, but he didn't need to know that. "Even so - leaving tonight is pointless. We should leave in the morning, and - "

"We're not going anywhere."

Dean and I whirled around. Sam walked in the room, shutting the door behind him.

"What're you talking about, Sammy?" Dean asked, brandishing a sock. "We missed this one."

Sam shook his head. "I don't think so. I mean, yes, we missed  _that_  one, but I think more than one deal got made, here."

I sat on the bed, eyebrows raised. "What makes you say that?"

Sam crossed his arms and leaned against a dresser. "Alice. The police are here, taking their notes and starting to clean up Carl." Dean and I winced at that. "Ellie's with them. Everyone's upset. Everyone - but Alice. She's brushing down one of the horses, and told me that she's not sad - not even a little."

Dean's eyebrows also went up, and he sat next to me.

Sam knew he had him. "Plus, she said that she feels like she's just waking from a fog. She knew Carl when they were younger, but she was never attracted to him. She's not even sure why she married him  _ten years ago_."

Dean's eyes darted this way and that as he worked through this tidbit of information. "So...Carl made a deal to get Alice as his wife…"

"...and that was before the ranch struck oil," I finished, looking up at Sam. "So someone else had to make the deal for the oil!"

Sam nodded triumphantly. "Exactly. Multiple deals under one roof."

"Wait, wait, wait," Dean held up a hand. "Alice is the only Cassity here. Ellie wouldn't have made a deal for someone else to get rich and continue to treat her like shit. Carl's dead. So…"

There was a knock at the door, and Sam scrambled to open it.

It was Ellie.

She looked like she'd been crying, but managed to pull it together to talk to us. "I just wanted you to know - the rest of the family is coming in for the funeral. They should be here in a day or so."

We just nodded, all of us thinking the same thing.

One of those lucky bastards made the oil deal.

She made to turn away, but then came back. "Um...the police are saying that wolves killed Carl. But...I know the wildlife around here. No wolf made those marks. Be careful. See you in the morning."

We all nodded again. As soon as she left, I nudged Dean. "Guess you can unpack, huh?"

**xxxxx**

Sure enough, a couple days later, a large, black limousine pulled into the driveway. We were gathered off to the side with Ellie, who was introducing us from afar, so sarcasm and contempt weren't overheard.

An older guy got out first.

"Okay, so that's Noah Cassity. He's the father, and a seriously grumpy old shit. He's now married to a girl one-third his age and lives in California."

I smiled at her language, and she shrugged her shoulders back, a hint of a smile on her lips. "Next up is Cindy Cassity."  _Whoa_  - she looked like - "She looks like a television whore, right? Well, she kinda is, but without the television part. She tried to be a recording star at one point, and made some Christmas album for dogs and cats. Stupidest thing I ever heard."

Dean chuckled, and she smiled a little wider.

A small, plain girl got out next, rushing to Alice and hugging her. "Who's that?" I asked.

Ellie's face softened. "That's Margot. She's the quiet, nerdy one, who, I think, was born into the wrong family. She's a sweet girl, and lives in England. They're not close to each other at all, and I'm sure you're gonna witness some amazing family interactions. They're gonna want dinner together tonight, despite the fighting that will take place, so Kate - you're going to cook most of that, Dean, you'll handle the grill, and Sam - you'll be serving them."

"Uh... _what?_ " Sam asked, leaning down as if he didn't hear correctly.

Ellie nodded. "You heard me. They like to be waited on, so they get to be waited on. Luckily, they won't stay long. They absolutely hate each other, as you'll see soon enough." She paused, then sighed. "Well, except for Margot. She's the only decent one in the lot."

Turned out, she was right.

Dad and Sam made fighting look like a comedy routine compared to these people. Throughout dinner, Cindy mocked their father for marrying someone so young. The father ripped on Cindy's pathetic attempt at a singing career. Alice rolled her eyes and simply looked bored with it all, interjecting barbs every now and then. Everyone claimed to be sorry for Alice's loss, although the only one who  _truly_  appeared sorry, was Margot.

Then we found out why.

Sam was pouring wine into their glasses (and being chastised for not pouring fast enough), when Cindy blurted out that Margot slept with Carl before he married Alice.

I heard it all from the kitchen, which wasn't a difficult thing to do, considering that Cindy's blurting involved screaming while throwing napkins across the room. Sam practically ran into the kitchen after that little mishap, face and ears beet red.

"Holy shit, Sam," I laughed, pulling out some cake and cutting it into slices. "They are absolutely  _precious_."

Sam blew out a breath and tossed a hand towel on the counter. Leaning on it, he shook his head in disbelief. "I don't even know what to say." He glanced over his shoulder, into the dining room. "I can't figure out who would've made the deal - they're all messed up, except for Margot, and she seems too nice to do something stupid like that."

Nodding in agreement, I licked frosting off a finger and shoved plates at Sam. "Go get 'em, tiger.

That earned me an eye roll and off he went with dessert.

Dean walked in, bringing dirty grill utensils and a shit-eating grin.

Nodding at him, I reached for the spatulas and tongs, "What's with the smile? You get laid while cooking steak?"

He handed over his loot and pulled out his phone. "Even better. Kevin called. He figured out how to see Hellhounds."

I dumped everything in the sink. "Great! What'd he say?"

"Apparently, you can see a Hellhound through objects scorched with holy flames." He looked over and nodded at Sam, who came back in carrying empty dinner plates. "So I'm thinking, get the jug o'holy oil from the trunk, light some up, and maybe put something like sunglasses in the flames. That's gotta work, right?"

Sam's face scrunched up. "Why are we roasting sunglasses in holy oil?"

"To see Hellhounds. Kevin figured it out." I turned on the faucet and started rinsing stuff so they could be dumped in the dishwasher. It was ridiculous - we were chatting about killing a fucking hound from Hell, and I was doing dishes.

Our lives were so weird.

Sam pursed his lips together. "Okay, so let's find some sunglasses."

Dean held up a finger. "One pair's all we need. I think there's one in the Impala."

He turned to go, and Sam reached out, grabbing his arm, earning a dark look. "Hold on. We need two."

"Um. Three?" I added, only to get...

"One."

"Two."

...snapped back at me.

Seriously? I flipped off the water and we all stood there, glaring at each other.

Eventually, they ignored me and went back to griping at each other.

"Dean. Knock it the fuck off. I'm helping you kill this hound, and I'm helping with the trials. Stop acting like it's the Dean Winchester show."

Dean pulled his arm out of Sam's grasp. "Is that what you think I'm doing? Grandstanding?"

Sam huffed. "No, that's not what I meant. I just - "

"You just need to sit in here with Kate and let me do this." He shook his head and held up a hand, stopping Sam's next words. I stood silently, watching, clearly left out of the conversation.

Some things never changed.

"Listen to me, Sam. I'm only saying this once. You have a chance at a life. You see a light at the end of this hunting crap. I don't. I know how my story ends...I just don't plan on going down without a fight. Closing Hell? Sounds like the best Goddamn fight ever. What I expect, is for you and Kate to keep those people safe, while I hunt this Hound. Then I will do this trial, I will do  _all_  the trials, and you aren't sharing in that burden."

Sam just stood there, his mouth pinched shut, breaths coming in short bursts. Veins bulged on his neck and forehead, and his arms were folded over his chest.

In short, Sam Winchester was not a happy camper.

"When everything's over and done, and Hell is shut up for good, you will have that life you want, and you will make me proud. You're my legacy." He pointed at me. "Kate will be there - she's a better partner in that plan than I ever could be."

Then he turned on me, still pointing. "You will stay with him, and you will carve a life here. You can help him be happy." His tone softened a bit. "If you really love me, love  _us_ , you'll do this."

Oh, fuck him!

"Now. Stay out of my way, or I'll put a bullet in your legs."

And on that sweet note, he left, surprisingly not slamming the door on his way out.

Sam and I didn't move. More bickering from the dining room could be heard, but neither of us reacted. Realizing I was shaking, I wrapped my arms around myself and licked my lips.

Sam cleared his throat.

Then we looked at each other. Sam wore a look I hadn't seen in years, and I knew at that moment, I had the same one.

Dean just yelled at us, which included an order and a threat to behave. Years of habitually following his commands engrained behaviors into our psyche that were difficult to counter. It was like we were little kids again.

Sam shook himself, wiping the look right off. "I'm over thirty fucking years old. He can't boss me around. This is stupid. Listen, he was right about one thing - you're staying out of danger. But that's only so you can save  _him_  once  _I'm_  done with the trials."

_Oh JesusChrist._  "What?!"

Sam started rooting through drawers, ignoring my obvious distaste with Winchester Plan Two. "Sam!" I hissed through clenched teeth, quickly checking on the family who couldn't be bothered with anything other than arguing with each other.

Sounded familiar…

"Yes!" Sam triumphantly held up a pair of what looked like reading glasses. Tucking them in his shirt pocket, he faced me, hands on my shoulders, a serious Big Brother look on his face. "Listen to me. All my life, I've wanted to be normal, free of hunting, free of Dad's life vision. I've been an idiot." I would've snorted there, but it didn't seem appropriate. "The truth is, I can't manage a normal life." He laughed sardonically. "I tried -  _twice_  - and failed both times. It can't be done...I'm not destined for it. I was tainted at six months of age, Kate. It was over for me before I even started living."

He sighed, let go of me, and rubbed his forehead. "Dean has a chance. I've watched you with him - you can help him. You can save him from this stupid notion that he's worthless. It's not a matter of whether he stops hunting, it's that he needs to see his potential...how smart and amazing he is." Sam looked me in the eyes. "In over thirty years, I could never get that across to him. You've been here three months, and he feels it from you. I know you love us, Kate, and I know he loves you. I need you to do this. For me  _and_  for him.  _Please_."

He held his breath a moment, let it out, then left through the same door as Dean.

Left alone in the kitchen, I tried really hard to process everything they just threw at me. In just a few minutes, I got simultaneously dumped to the curb and burdened with saving one of them.

I scrubbed both hands over my face. Okay.

_Okayokayokay._

I  _knew_  something was up with them. I just  _knew_  it. But I had time...there was still time to knock some sense into both of them.

"There isn't time, Kate. I'm sorry."

I whipped around. Castiel stood behind me, trenchcoat rumpled, a sad puppy look on his face. I never heard him coming, which was weird and unfamiliar to me.

"Where've you been?" I snapped, trying to mask my worry and confusion over the different versions of Castiel. This wasn't my Cas. You'd think I'd be used to that by now.

He glanced around the kitchen, as if the answer lie somewhere in a cabinet. "Heaven. It's…"

"Complicated, yeah, I know." I rubbed my eyes again. "You know what's going on, here?"

He nodded and took a step towards me. "I do. Be very careful, Kate. There is no information other than what's on that tablet about closing Hell. I cannot help you in this."

I sighed. "I figured as much. What's up? Why aren't you visiting Dean?" I knew this Cas was close to Dean, and it struck me as being odd that he would appear to me instead.

He managed to look sheepish. "Dean's a little...hard headed right now."

"Right  _now_?" I snorted.

He shrugged his eyebrows in agreement. "He wouldn't listen to me, if I tried, I know that. Besides, I can't stay long. I just wanted to warn you that there's no guarantee that completing the trials will work, and there's no guarantee that the person completing them will survive."

"Well, gee, thanks for the pep talk, Cas." I walked past him, fully intent on washing the pile of dishes in the sink as a distraction from this mess. Something stopped me, though, and I turned back to him. "What do you mean there is no time?"

There was a howl in the distance.

"They're coming," he said, almost sadly. "Take this." He pressed a long, silver blade into my hand. "You may need it."

_Now_  I heard the feather rustle, and once again, I stood alone.

_Balls_.

**xxxxx**

There was a commotion in the dining room, so after tucking the blade into my waistband, and yes, it was a tad uncomfortable, I rushed in to see what the fight was about this time.

"I'm gonna kill the wolf that murdered my son-in-law. You just watch me!"

The old man, Noah, drunkenly stood up, weaving from side to side, brandishing a glass of wine like it was a trophy.

Cindy saluted him with hers. "You go for it, old man. Hope you don't die." She chugged her wine, set down the glass, and politely burped. "Or maybe I do," she added under her breath.

"Christ, you're disgusting," Alice sneered, tossing her napkin on the table and pushing her chair back.

Cindy shrugged. "Whatever. At least I'm not a widow."

Alice coldly glared at her. "Nice one, whore."

Both women sloppily got to their feet, probably intent on starting a brawl. I hastened between them, holding up my hands. "Ladies, please! Let's - let's go to the living room, okay? I'll get more wine - "

Cindy winked at me. "Now you're talkin'."

" - and we'll just...calm down."

Alice rolled her eyes and stomped to the other room, plopping on a couch. Noah still swayed on his feet, calmly sipping his drink. Cindy stumbled after her sister.

Only Margot remained at the table, eyes downcast, hands in her lap.

"You okay?" I asked softly.

Startled, she looked up. "Yeah, I...yeah. Thanks."

There was another howl, and everyone jumped.

That's when I heard the kitchen door slam, so I raced back there to find Dean and Sam, both wearing ridiculous glasses, arguing with each other in heated whispers.

I keenly felt like I was on a derailing train, with no way to stop the impending crash. My nerves were frayed, and I wasn't in the mood for playing Who's The Most Worthless Winchester.

"Knock it off, both of you! The Hellhound is here, the family's falling apart, and we gotta figure out what to do!" I marched over, separating them with a hand on each chest.

Sam huffed. "I'm coming out there to help, whether you like it or not." Clever, Sam - tell him you're helping. Good job.

Dean hesitated a second before barking, "Nope. Here's the goofer dust. Protect the family. If they die, that's on you." Clever, Dean - intentionally placed guilt trip. Well played.

He tossed a cloth bag at Sam and took off, leaving Sam gaping after him. "Sometimes I fucking hate him. Help me secure them so I can get out there."

Before I could comment, he strode into the living room. Sighing, I followed behind.

"Listen up! Sam announced in his Listen To Me voice. "I...where's Noah and Margot?"

Cindy lolled her head up at him. "They took off with shotguns so they could kill the wolf."

"They... _what?!_ " Sam almost exploded.

_I_ almost exploded. This was turning into a classic clusterfuck.

Sam thrust the bag of goofer dust at me. "Lay this by the doors and windows - like salt. It'll keep out the Hellhounds."

"Hellhounds? What are you talking about?" Alice sat up, eyeing us suspiciously.

Sam thrust a finger at her. "Stay put. Do whatever my sister says. If you stay within the boundaries of the goofer dust, you'll live." He turned to me. "I'm going after those two idiots, then I'll go after  _our_  idiot."

"Sam - "

He shook his head, dismissing me, and left.

_Goddammit!_

"Hey! Hey, cook lady! What the hell was he talking about?" Cindy struggled to sit straight, her wine sloshing every which way.

"Christ, Cindy - this is expensive furniture! Put your glass down!" Alice commanded, futilely holding out a coaster for her sister.

At this point, I'd had enough.

"Shut up, both of you! I need a minute to think!"

Both women stared at me, shocked into silence.  _Finally_. Huffing, I hurried to the windows and doors, carefully pouring the dust along possible entrances. "My brother, as crazy as he sounded, was right. Someone in this family made a deal with a demon." To head them off, I stood up and held up a hand. "I know. You think I'm crazy, too. But it happened. Don't you think it's a little weird that you struck oil on land where oil shouldn't have been found?"

They looked at each other, gears turning.

I went back to laying the dust. "And Alice - you never paid attention to Carl, but all of a sudden you decided to marry him? Someone talked to someone."

Finished, I straightened and examined my handiwork. I studied the bag, realizing that I didn't even know what the hell goofer dust  _was_. I knew it kept Hellhounds at bay, but only because Dean said it did.  _I'd_  never heard of it. One more example of how much more crap my brothers experienced than me.

"That funny guy - remember him, Cindy? Ten years ago? The funny guy with the accent. He was snooping around town, chatting it up with Daddy and Margot that night at the social."

Cindy squinted, thinking real hard. " _Ohhhhh_ , yeah...I remember him. Goofy dude. We all thought he was drunk off his ass." She looked up at me. "He was walking around telling everyone he could make their dreams come true. Like anyone believed him." She snorted and took another gulp of wine.

"Carl was talking to him...I remember, now. What was his name?"

"Croopy? Crangly?"

"Crowley!"

I spun around. Dean entered the room, his expression grim. "Who's Crowley?" I asked.

Dean took me by the arm and led me away from the sisters. "Crowley is the King of Hell. We're...acquaintances."

I put my hands on my hips and tilted my head.  _You've got to be fucking kidding me._

Sighing, Dean dragged a hand down his face. "I'll explain later. Listen, Ellie made a deal. Crowley was here ten years ago when he was just a Crossroads Demon. Ellie's mom was sick, so Ellie made a deal to cure her. Crowley never mentioned payment, but Ellie had a feeling somethin' was coming for her once Carl got sliced and diced. I made her a goofer dust circle and told her to stay in her room. She also thinks Margot made the deal for the oil. She - " Dean broke off, looking around the room. "Where  _the fuck_  is Sam?"

I gestured vaguely. "The old man and Margot took off to hunt  _the wolf_ ," I used air quotes. "You charged Sam with keeping everyone safe, so he ran off to find them."

" _Godammit!_  If - "

There was another howl, this time a lot closer, followed by screaming.

"Stay here!" Dean barked, running from the room.

I threw my hands in the air, feeling like the stupid chick in a horror movie.  _Stay put - I'll get you later._

Cindy and Alice looked about ready to piss themselves, the wine and the fighting forgotten. "That's not a wolf, is it?" Alice asked, her voice trembling.

"No, it's not. I told you - it's a Hellhound, coming to collect on a deal made with a demon. It…" My voice trailed off.

Oh shit...this whole time, we've been planning on killing one Hellhound...one deal, one hound. But there were multiple deals, here. And Cas...Cas said  _ **They're**_   _coming_. Last I checked,  _they_  was a plural pronoun.

Oh, shit. Not good - not good at all.

I ran to the window, scanning the grounds for signs of my brothers.

Nothing. Next room. Nothing. Back office... _there!_

Through the window, I could see Noah stumbling towards the house, sobbing uncontrollably, Sam leading him, head turning in all directions. Margot was nowhere to be found. I met them at the back door, Sam practically pushing the man through the doorway.

"Get him inside. I'm going to Dean."

"Sam - "

He was already turning away, my words lost in the sound of Noah crying about losing his baby girl. "He went to the barn, so that's where I'm headed." Then he ran off.

_Grrrrrr!_

I grabbed Noah by the arm and dragged him into the living room. Cindy and Alice were talking to... _Ellie_. Make that a slightly hysterical, Ellie.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I almost shoved Noah onto the couch. "Dean told you to - "

Ellie shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "I don't want to die. But if I have to, I don't want to do it alone."

So...being mauled in front of other people was a better option? I kept that to myself and sighed. Normal people in supernatural situations don't always make the best decisions.

Like stupid chicks in horror movies.

Another howl rang out, this time seemingly right outside. Ellie looked out the window and screamed. Everyone turned.

"What?! I don't see anything!" Cindy screamed, huddling on the couch with her father.

"What do you see, Ellie? What is it?!" Alice was shaking the poor ranch manager, who clenched her eyes shut and began to pray.

I...I felt heavy and sweaty and almost dizzy.

I could see it - I saw the Hound.

And I wasn't wearing the glasses.

It was... _massive_. Almost panther-like, and just like the one I saw in Hell. It looked down at the goofer dust, and snorted, clawing feebly at the window and whining. It looked up at me and met my eyes.

It knew I saw it.  _It knew._

After one last glance at the dust, it growled and walked away.

That's when I remembered the weapon Cas slipped me. The fact that a huge, silver blade tucked into the back of my pants got forgotten, explained how batshit crazy things were.

Pulling it out, I set my jaw and walked to the window.

"Holy shit - don't hurt us!" Alice cowered with her sister and father on the couch, eyeing me fearfully.

Good grief.

"Shut up and stay put. Ellie - I swear to God - if you leave this house, there's no protection for you. Understand? I'm trying to keep you all safe! Stop yelling at me and try to...calm down!"

Yeah, I knew that was a stupid thing to say, but I was desperate for them to just shut the fuck up. I turned back to the window, seeing nothing. Frustrated, I searched through the other windows again, hoping to see something.

_Anything_.

Then I did - and my blood ran cold. Across the grounds, Dean and Sam slipped into the barn, knives out, glasses on their faces. On the other end of the lot, two Hounds touched noses before splitting up, approaching the barn from opposite directions. I lost sight of them after a couple seconds.

Oh, Christ - they couldn't stop two of them, there was no way.  _No way._  Calling would distract them (besides there wasn't time) and I couldn't yell out - they were already inside.

_Fuckfuckfuck!_

Running to the nearest door, I bolted outside, running like hell for the barn, but the barn seemed to get further away the faster I ran. I heard Sam yelling, "Dean!  _No!_ " And I raced even faster, heart in my throat.

_Please, God, Nonononononono…_

Gunshots sounded, and one Hound came skittering out of the barn, running for the trees, a dark streak of thick liquid streaming from its side.

I was maybe fifteen yards away when I heard it - a low growling off to my left. Skidding to a halt, I tucked and rolled, just as the second Hound leaped in the air, it's claws whooshing past, close enough to ruffle my hair and sting my cheek. I hit the ground, completed the roll, and was about to get back on my feet when it launched itself again.

Not thinking, I thrust the blade in front of me, spearing it in the chest, its weight from the jump taking us both to the ground. I pushed harder against the knife, forcing it deeper inside, and twisting my head away from its snapping jaws. It let out a loud wailing, piercing the air, just before a rush of hot... _goo_...splashed all over my chest and pants, neck and face.

The wail dragged on, ending in a gurgle, until the Hound just dissolved.

On top of me.

There were no words to describe it.  _None_. I just laid there, panting, feeling the heat from its blood soak into my clothes, maybe into my skin.

All I could think of, was:  _They're gonna be so pissed..._

**xxxxx**

After a few minutes, my skin started tingling from the blood. I rolled to my feet, wiped the silver blade on my pants, shoved it back in my waistband, and surveyed the damage.

Clothing was ruined - completely saturated with Liquid Hound. My nose wrinkled at the unholy ( _ha…_ ) smell that covered my body. After checking myself over, I noted no injuries other than a bruised hip and a minor cut on my cheek. Sighing, I started the walk towards the barn when my phone buzzed in my pocket.

Pulling it out, I squinted at the sky and sighed again. It was Sam. "Hey…"

"Everything okay in there?"

I turned towards the house, which looked miles away and winced. "Yeah. You?"

The conversation was totally inane.

Sam huffed. "It's gone. It scratched Dean a little," Dean snorted in the background, "and I shot it until it ran off. We need to give Ellie a hex bag so she doesn't get caught in the future."

"Yeah, okay. Um...glad you're both okay. Listen…"

"Just...send Ellie to our room. And...Kate, look. Before...I didn't...I mean, um, I shoulda told you that I love you, too. I just...in the heat of everything...I was so focused on Dean, that I - "

"It's okay, Sam. Really. I'll get Ellie."

He huffed. "Yeah, okay. I need to patch Dean up. We'll...see you soon."

I hung up, turned, and began the walk back to the house, tapping the phone against my chin. I was used to being the third wheel. It got better through the years, but I knew, understood and even embraced the inherent bond my brothers had with each other. There was something comforting in knowing that it existed here, too.

The door suddenly appeared in front of me - apparently, I wasn't paying attention. It'd only been a few minutes since I ran through it, terrified that I'd lose one or both of them. The panic that raced through me was unmatched by anything in my entire life. Their death seemed so...inevitable.

I couldn't lose them...again. I just... _couldn't_.

My fingers brushed against the cooling blood, which made the fabric stick to my skin. Yeah...I knew what to do.

Once inside, I made sure everyone was okay, then told Ellie to hightail it to the boys. There were threats to call the police although I knew they wouldn't. Only Noah seemed with it.

"Did you get it? Did you get the monster that killed my Margot?" His voice shook as he asked, daring to hope.

You have no idea.

"Yeah - we...we got it."

He just nodded and sat down, crying once more.

No one seemed to care that I was covered in blood. Sighing, I left them alone, snagging a jacket on the way out.

As I shuffled down the corridor of the building we slept in, I could hear Sam and Dean talking with Ellie. Taking a deep breath, I knocked, then nudged open the door, pulling the jacket tight around me.

Sam just finished wrapping Dean's side, while Dean explained the fundamentals of a hex bag to Ellie.

"Keep it on you - at all times. It'll hide you from the Hounds. Go pack...and start running. And don't look back."

They shared a few more words, which I wasn't listening to, then Ellie left. Dean pulled down his shirt and swiped a hand down his face, one hand pressed against his side.

"Alright...gotta find another deal and start over."

Taking a deep breath, I knew - it was now or never. "No, we don't."

Both brothers turned to face me. Dean asked, "What're you talking about? We didn't pass the trial. Sam shot it, and it ran off."

Sam chuffed, clutching at his hair in frustration. "It was going to kill you, Dean. The knife was ten feet away. It was either shoot at it, or watch you die.  _Again_."

Ouch - nice low blow.

"Doesn't matter," I said, unzipping the jacket. "I got the second one." Feeling like one of those models on the runway, I let the jacket fall off me to the floor, revealing...a coagulated, sticky, stinging mess...covering most of my body.

"What the fuck…" They both rushed over, and a wave of irritation flooded over me. I held up my hands and took a step back, stopping them in their tracks.

It looked almost comical, like I had magic powers or something. But in reality, the look on my face was pretty clear:  _Back off._

"I'm fine - thanks for asking." Dean's head retreated, and Sam looked guilty. I sighed -  _stop being snippy_ , I chided myself. "Listen...I saw the second one after you went into the barn. There was no way to warn you. I just...I ran over...it jumped me...and...I killed it."

Dean's mouth dropped open, and even Sam was at a complete loss for words.

"Now, let's get something straight, once and for all. Neither of you are doing the trials.  _I_ am."

"The hell you are!" Dean roared. Sam nodded in agreement, and they did that defensive posturing thing they do when I disagree with them.

When I disagree with  _my_  Sam and Dean.

Which...well. Is now  _them_. They were  _mine_ , and while I knew and felt that already, it was more pronounced right then.

"The hell I  _am_ , and you can't stop me.  _I_  killed the Hound, Dean.  _I'm_  going to say the spell, and the trials will be  _mine_  to complete.  _End of story_."

Dean's eyes narrowed at that.

So I kept going. "You know what? I've spent the better part of my time here listening to the two of you berate yourselves, each trying to be the biggest loser in this family, the least deserving to live and thrive. It's the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard."

They actually glanced guiltily at eachother.

"Here's the thing. The only person in this outfit who doesn't belong, is me. This isn't my reality. It isn't even my  _time_. I'm out of place, and therefore the perfect person to do this. You two can't, no matter what you say, survive without the other. You just...you just  _can't_. But you can  _definitely_  survive without me. I'm expendable." My voice almost broke at that...it sounded worse out loud than in my head. "I don't know what'll happen when the trials are done. No one does. So maybe all this doom and gloom crap is unnecessary, and we'll be playing croquet and sipping tea afterwards. I don't fucking know. But if the gates are closed, and you two are alive...it's all good in my book."

It was easy rehearsing this speech in my head, but a whole other thing to say it. Swallowing thickly, I wrapped it up. "You don't get it. I love you both more than anything. I can't even...I can't even express it properly. This codependence thing you have going on...I have it, too. You have no idea how hard it's been for me to...to give up my life, and start over here, without  _them_. If you weren't here, I couldn't do it. Simple as that. You feel that level of protection and attachment with each other...well I have it with  _you_. I plan on keeping you both safe and alive, and if this helps ensure that you both grow old together? Then I'm in. So just...shut the fuck up, and help me do this."

The was silence for a few heartbeats, until Sam said, "Kate…"

Enough, already. I had the stupid spell memorized. So I stood up straight and impatiently brushed the hair off my face. " _Kah nuh ahm dahr,_ " I intoned, loud and clear.

Dean took a step towards me, worry and fear in his eyes. Defiantly, I stared back at him, thinking that this wasn't so bad.

Until it hit.

Something jolted me from the inside out, and I fell to my knees with a small cry of pain. I could feel every cell in my body light up, like a Christmas tree, tingling and buzzing with energy. Prying my eyes open, I watched my arm glow bright orange, and absently wondered if they saw it, too. Veins and arteries lit up, pulsing and throbbing, making movement impossible.

My chest constricted, each breath a shallow gasp that burned its way inside and out. Blood thundered in my ears, to the point where I thought I'd pass out.

I could hear frantic yelling, "Kate! Are you okay? Kate!" But they didn't move closer, and I couldn't answer.

Then, without warning, it receded, no more glowing, breathing became easier, head pounded less.

I caught my breath, brushed the hair off my face again, and stood up, forcing a smile on my face. "I'm good - really. It's all fine."

They just stared at me. And I stared back.

Sam broke first, closing the gap between us and crushing me to him in a massive hug. His arms brushed against the blade, and he pulled back with a questioning look on his face. Gingerly, I pulled it out.

"Yeah...used this bad boy on the Hound."

Dean reached out and took it, giving Sam a look. "Where'd you get this?" He asked in this oddly quiet voice.

My alarms were ringing again, but I didn't have the strength to react. "From Cas. Said I might need it...guess he was right."

Dean inhaled sharply at that, shooting Sam another grim look. He tossed the weapon on his bed, then enveloped me in a Dean hug. In my ear, he murmured, "We'll talk more about this later."

Of course we would.

He let go, thumbing my cheek, and sighed. "We should probably get outta here."

Sam nodded. "Margot's body is still in the woods, and I'm sure they're gonna call the police soon."

Dean licked his lips, then nodded at me. "Go change then grab your stuff - we're leaving in ten. We'll get a motel in a bit so you can get cleaned up. I'd rather you shower now, but..."

I forced a wider smile to ease their minds. "You got it - no worries. Really." Carefully, I turned and left their room, making sure to look confident and just plain  _okay_.

Because after all that, they didn't need to know that it felt like my blood was burning throughout my entire body.


	23. Chapter 23

I stretched lazily, once again enjoying the feeling of my own bed. We'd been back from Idaho a couple days, and I was so fucking glad to be home.

The effects from the first trial were still being figured out. However, as far as Sam and Dean were concerned, everything was hunky dory. They'd been remarkably quiet on the subject, so telling them there was a tiny bit of fallout was  _seriously_  not gonna go over well.

So hunky dory, it was.

For now.

I mean, it'd only been a couple days. The sensation of "boiling blood" quelled somewhat by the time we got to a motel that first night. It's stayed as a sort of generic tingling, pulsing throughout my body, the tempo altering with my heartrate.

Simply put, it was weird. But I've gotten used to it, so it was now mostly something like background noise.

Yawning, I stretched again, and glanced at my phone. It was early evening, which meant... _whoa_...I napped for eight hours.

Shit.

That's not so much a nap as a whole night's sleep. Gotten in the middle of the day.

_Shit times two_.

The guys were probably crawling the walls with worry. Gingerly, I sat up (too fast meant dizziness) and rubbed my eyes. Light from the crack under the door was just enough to show off the furniture. I was about to stand up when…

" _You sure she's in her room?"_

" _Yeah - I just checked."_

" _Awesome. We need to sort this shit out before I fucking lose my mind."_

I blinked, arms out at my sides to steady myself.  _What the fuck?_  I actually looked around, thinking that my brothers were hiding in my room somewhere since their voices were so close. But then I remembered Sam's words. He said he checked on me, and I was in my room.

Which meant they were not. Which meant... _huh…_

" _Cas, why the fuck did you give her a weapon?"_

" _I knew there were two Hounds, Dean. If she didn't have that weapon, she would be dead right now. Is that a more preferable outcome?"_

" _Jesus, Cas, of course not! But...why didn't you just warn us or some shit? That would've been a lot easier."_

" _Dean's right, Cas. There was no reason to send her out there."_

" _I sent her nowhere, Sam. She left of her own accord. I simply felt that it would be better for her to defend herself should something happen. Which it did. I am not allowed to directly assist you in completing the trials. Since I was under the impression that she was not participating, I decided to bend the rules to save her life."_

One of them sighed, and there was the sound of a chair scraping against the floor.

" _Dean - she was fearful for your lives, and that's what sent her outside. The other Hound attacked_ _ **her…**_   _she was not seeking to usurp your ability to complete the trials. Didn't Kate explain this already?"_

" _Yeah, she did. It's just...we're not saying she was trying to get in on the trials. That's not her style. But...she leapt in and spoke the spell before we could do anything, and …"_

" _...and it's not right. Just say it, Sam. This isn't right. We've been planning to do these trials for a while, now. This was our shot at closing Hell for good. Now it's...it's in the hands of someone we barely know! We don't know if she can do this!"_

Oh.

Um.

_Oh…_

I felt the air rush out of me, so much so, that I had to lay back down. I curled into a ball and just...stared into my dark room. Apparently, the  _Everything is Fine_  routine was working both ways. I tried to shut their voices out, but I couldn't. All I could do was lie there and listen.

" _What, exactly, makes you think she isn't capable of completing the trials?"_

" _I dunno, Cas! She_ _ **may**_   _be able to do it. I don't know! I just - "_

" _You just know for certain that_ _ **you**_   _would have completed them. Is that it?"_

Silence.

" _He's right on that one, Dean."_

" _Shut the fuck up. You wanted to do them, too."_

" _Yeah, I did, but only because I didn't want_ _ **you**_   _to do them. Not because I doubted your ability. But, hey! Hold on! I...I agree with you. Yes, she's been with us for a little while, and yes, we...we pretty much accept her as family…"_

They... _accept me as family_? Pretty much?  _Fantastic_.

How... _polite_. How... _sterile_. How...not how I thought this was going.

" _...but...we still don't really know her. And...and everything is riding on her shoulders now."_

" _I see. You don't need to elaborate. I can feel doubt radiating from you. I can assure you - Kate's motives are clear, and good, stemming from love and a need to protect."_

" _We know, Cas. That's not the point. We're just worried."_

" _That's why I want to go find another Hound to kill. I'll kill that one, do the trial, and then I can finish the rest off."_

" _I don't think you can do that, Dean. The trials weren't meant for multiple people to complete at once. She is in the midst of the spell, therefore she must finish. If she doesn't...I cannot speak to what may happen."_

Something slammed against something, making me jump. I'm guessing Dean hit a table or a wall...tossed a chair...or... _yeah_.

" _Awesome, Cas. That's just...fucking awesome."_

" _Okay - so there's nothing we can do but...but try to help her succeed."_

" _At least if she fails, we can start over."_

There was some mumbling, furniture moving, then silence.

What the fuckingfuck was that? I ran a trembling hand over my mouth, pressing it against my teeth as a ridiculous reassurance that I wasn't dreaming.

Because what the fuckingfuck was that?

Castiel's voice sounded in my head.  _I'm sorry, Kate. Completing the trials will be extremely difficult. I felt you should know where everything stood before proceeding._

Before I could ask anything, it was quiet again.

_Everything_  crashed down around me. All this time... _all this time_ , thinking that everything was good...that being here was okay...that they actually...loved me back…

And now, I wasn't sure. Nothing they said was particularly awful or terrible, and my rational side understood that. I mean...looking at this objectively, they had no history with me, they just met me, what, four months ago? And I butted in, claiming an all-encompassing love for them, and then cheated them out of the trials. I got it...it made sense.

But emotionally? As a sister desperate for her family?

I was a goddamn wreck.

Throughout this whole curse/spell, I've thought  _Gee, I've never felt so alone or out of place than I do now_. And every time, I managed to top it with a worse situation.

I was pretty sure,  _this_  was now the worst, and not possible to be topped in any way. I had nowhere else to jump, this was it. I was going to die here - I knew that - and it was going to be alone.

...which is what Uriel said would happen.

_Sigh_.

Okay. So...they didn't trust me to finish, right? Okay. I either convince them otherwise, or I sulk in a corner. Fuck sulking. I wasn't going to give them that satisfaction.

There was a knock on my door, and Sam called out, "Hey...you awake?"

At the sound of his voice, I conceded: actually, sulking sounded good for a little while. Sam sounded sincere and concerned and in light of everything, it just felt fake and made my stomach turn.

I rolled over and faced the wall, knowing he'd...yep, he opened the door.

"Kate? Hey...you hungry?"

I cleared my throat. "Uh...no, thanks."

He tapped his fingers against the door. I clenched my eyes shut and sternly ordered myself not to whimper in his presence. "You've been in here a while...everything okay?"

Seriously?

"Yeah, just tired." I held my breath and bit my lip and counted down in my head and told myself not to cry.

"Okay...well. I'll, um, just leave you alone."

I nodded into the pillow, as if he could see me, and waited until the door clicked shut to deflate against the mattress and cry.

**xxxxx**

The next morning, I had my plan in place. It was brilliant, it was clever, it was classic Winchester.

It was avoidance.

I couldn't sit in my room all day - Dean would hunt me down if he thought something was up. But I spent hours putting up mental walls, preparing to stand on my own.

Even though I was having a  _little_  trouble simply standing. I got dizzy spells every once in a while that forced me to grab onto whatever was nearby to keep from falling over. Every pulse from my heart sent tiny prickles of pain along every limb and the length of my torso as blood rushed through veins and arteries. It thrummed in my head, and distracted me.

But hey - nothing to see here. Everything was  _fine_.

Right. As. Rain.

I just needed something to keep me busy.

The boys brought in as much of Bobby's library as they could when they found the Bunker. There were still several boxes of books and parchments and notes and journals in the basement, waiting to be gone through and catalogued. They hadn't sorted the stuff before packing it, let alone marking what was in each box, so there was much rooting around to be done.

Since the stash was in the basement, I went down there, sorted through a couple boxes until I found books that could be helpful in figuring out the trials, brought them upstairs and poured over and through them, keeping notes on everything. Every time I finished looking through one, I dug around until I found three more. It was a great chore - a complete time fill, along with being very productive on multiple levels.

So when Dean approached, a few days later, asking me to accompany them on a hunt, it was easy (Easier? Not  _too_  painful? Almost tolerable?) to tell him no.

"Wait... _no?_ " Dean clarified, confusion on his face.

Barely looking up from the book I was reading, I nodded. "Yeah...there's a lot of material to work through. So...I think I should just stay here with Kevin and research."

My refusal hung there.  _Thick_. Dean didn't expect it, and was having a hard time understanding why. I had no intention of enlightening him. So he just stood there, watching me.

Eventually, I peeked up at him. Like I said, it'd been a few days. My time of tearing up was over. It's not like my feelings for them changed, but...things were different, now. I did, however, find a pocket of resolve, of determination, that I clung to, regardless of the bewilderment and maybe hurt plastered on his face. Even though he looked like he really wanted me to go with them. Even though they probably needed help.

Even though…

_Knock it off_ , Kate.

"What?" I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral. No whiny tone, no sarcasm, just...flat.

He blinked. "Uh...nothing...I guess. Just thought we...you feeling okay?"

"Yeah! Yeah - everything's fine. Just wanna help Kevin and get the next trial translated and be ready to finish it." Oooh - yeah - that reeked of confidence. Good job!

"Oh...I didn't think...okay. Well. We'll be back in a few days. Um...call if you need anything."

My throat was locking up a bit so I chose not to answer, instead nodding and smiling like a moron. I actually gave him a thumbs up.

He raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't comment.

As soon as he left, I lay my head on the table.

Pulling away from my brothers was not something that came naturally.

**xxxxx**

They were gone almost a week. I didn't call, and maybe they were a little upset at that. Sam kept texting, telling me where they were and what was going on. I answered, glad for the info, relieved they were okay. It was beyond bizarre...I've never willingly sat out on a hunt, and it was worse to not even be at the motel waiting for them to get back, patching them up.

Texting, I decided, was a happy medium. No matter how much I wanted to pull back, I really wasn't capable of doing it completely.

I wasn't stupid - I knew my limits.

But I also really needed to stop hurting. Which, okay, was never going to happen. But I could, from this point forward, stop letting it hurt more.

Which, okay, I knew  _that_  wasn't going to happen, either.

This pattern went on for weeks. They'd go out on hunts, sometimes hunt hopping from one job to the next. Kevin and I stayed behind, researching, translating, holding down the fort.

One day, Dean called, startling Kevin and I as we ate breakfast. "Hey there…" I answered, setting down my fork and pushing away my plate. I hadn't really eaten much, and on a tiny selfish note, the call was a perfect excuse for  _not_  eating. My appetite just wasn't there.

Kevin glared at me, looking pointedly at my plate then back at me. I shrugged and pointed to the phone.  _What can I do?_  I leaned back in my chair until it balanced on two legs, looking casual.

He rolled his eyes and kept eating.

"Hey...uh...we found this case...multiple vics, burned out eyes, burned hands and feet. Totally up our alley."

"Sweet. You gonna head over now?" That meant we were going on almost two weeks since I saw them.

"Well...here's the thing. Vics are in different states. No real pattern, just scattered. The recent one is close to the Bunker, about five hours out. We're gonna pass through and...we'd really like some backup on this one."

"Okay...you want me to call George? Or see if Marty's close by?"

"Actually, we want you."

_Goddammit…_

My chair thunked on the floor and words flew out of my head.

"Kate? You there?"

"What? Yeah...yeah I'm here. I just...why me?" Oh fuck, that was the wrong thing to say. "I mean, don't you think another hunter would be better?" More  _reliable?_

The plan to not appear sulky was rapidly failing.

"Uh... _no_...we want  _you_. Who else would be better?"

The chick at Starbucks? I dunno, I was floundering, here.

"Kate...listen, I don't know what's going on with you, but...this one looks really funky. We all know what burned out eyes mean. We just...we'd feel better if you were with us on this one."

I drew a breath. The resolve for autonomy now rang hollow in my head.

" _Please_."

Fuck.

"How soon will you be here?"

**xxxxx**

Over the last several weeks, I'd learned to adjust to the fallout from the trial. Kevin saw some of it, probably knew more than I thought he did, and would shit if he understood all of it.

I debated how much I should share with Sam and Dean. Since they weren't convinced I could do this, divulging my weaknesses wasn't exactly top on my list.

"You need to tell them how you're doing," Kevin insisted, leaning in my doorway, watching me pack.

Glancing up at him, I grudgingly nodded. "I know."

"No, Kate, I mean it. You...you're not doing well. At all. And after the second trial…"

I tossed some socks into my bag and straightened up, fighting the dizziness that little movement inspired. "I  _know_ , Kev. It's gonna get worse. I get it. I don't want them getting hurt because I can't protect them. I dunno why they want me to go in the first place."

I closed my eyes a moment, settling myself back down. Way to get worked up before anything has even happened.

When I opened them, Kevin was watching me with a curious expression. "Where'd all that come from?"

I stuck out my tongue.

"No, seriously. What is up with you and them? It's not that I don't like your company and help, but...I never pegged you to stay away from them."

I winced. "What does that mean?"

Kevin shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno...you...you're really attached them. I mean, your whole family is seriously intertwined. It's...kinda not natural." My eyebrows rose at that one. "But that's how you are, so whatever. I just know how much they mean to you, so I can't figure out why you're pulling away now of all times." His eyes narrowed. "Unless you know something."

"Oh please," I said, rolling my eyes. "You're the prophet - I know nothing."

"Nononono…" Kevin waggled his finger at me and stepped into the room. "You know something. Or you're thinking something. Or something something." He jutted his chin towards me. "Give it up."

I pulled on an oversized hoodie, zipping it up and tucking my hands in the sleeves. The need to talk to someone else tugged at me. I sighed. "It's nothing. I just...I get the feeling they don't want me doing the trials."

He blinked at me. "No shit."

I blinked at him.

He sighed. "Kate - why would they want you doing these trials? First off, they don't know what's gonna happen. Second, they both have a serious martyr complex. Third, they have a seriously serious martyr complex!"

I laughed a little. He was right. Of course he was right. That wasn't the part that bugged me, but I didn't feel like sharing the rest. I was supposed to be over it. "I know, Kev. I thought it'd be easier on them if there was some distance, that's all. They - "

"Hey! Where is everybody?" Dean's voice sounded in the hallway, his timing so perfect I coulda kissed him.

You know. If I weren't mentally sulking.

His head poked into my room, and he nodded at us both. "Hiya...got the second trial translated yet?"

Kevin gave him the finger.

"Alrighty then. I'll just grab some clean underwear and go." He looked at me, his head tilting to the side. "How're you doing?" He walked over, and I turned to zip up my bag, cutting off the Dean hug I suspected coming my way.

Which... _fuck_ , I wanted. Like, really badly. But, I felt like a chump accepting one while simultaneously touting the Kate Winchester Party Line of 'I'm Totally Independent'. So…

"All good. Ready to go when you are." I hefted the bag onto my shoulder, luckily not staggering under its weight. "Where's Sam?"

Dean paused, smoothly tucking one hand in his pocket instead of reaching out to me. He thumbed over his shoulder. "Grabbing his own clean underwear."

"Okay...I'll meet you at the car!" I wore a winning smile, and walked past him, stopping briefly at Kevin. "You - eat and make sure to sleep. We won't be gone long."

Kevin nodded and rolled his eyes. "I will. Be careful. And remember what I said." Oooh, serious tone with a matching look.  _Nice_.

Wanting him to know I got the message, I stuck my tongue out again, and walked out of my room.

It didn't occur to me until I was almost at the Impala, that Dean was probably grilling Kevin, and staying behind to chaperone would've been smart. Truthfully? My little sister side wanted him to know I was kinda sick, without being the one to tell him.

_Blech_...I was so bad at this. First time seeing them in weeks and I just fell back into caring about what they think about me.  _Awesome_.

I shivered in my sweatshirt and climbed into the car, almost crying at how  _home_  the seat felt. Leaning back, I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead on the cool window, wishing they'd hurry up so we could get going.

**xxxxx**

Next thing I knew, we were on the road, rumbling down the highway.  _Goddammit_  - I did that super deep sleeping thing again. I was lying down on the seat, an old blanket on top of me.

Even better.

I strained my ears to hear any sort of conversation going on in the front seat, but there was only soft music playing. Sighing, I pushed myself up, fighting the routine waves of dizziness and mild nausea from changing position.

"Hey there - good morning," Dean called out, his tone sounding like forced cheerfulness.

Sam twisted in his seat, a small smile on his face. "We're almost there."

I winced. "Shit...sorry."

"No sorry...you were seriously  _out_. Late night hanging with Kevin?"

_Ha-haaaaa_...yeah, no. "Uh...no. I, um, sleep a lot. Now." I finished with a lame shrug, trying to minimize passing out in the middle of the day without being able to detect a loud-ass car engine firing up underneath my ass.

Sam nodded slowly, eyes roaming over me, quietly assessing.

Dean flicked on the turn signal. "We're here."

We got our room, a painful shade of yellow that made us all collectively gag upon entering. I dropped my bag near the couch and plopped onto it. Jesus, I was still tired.

"I'll, uh, go grab dinner," Dean announced, flicking the key ring around his finger. He nodded at Sam, then left.

I was too busy massaging my temples to notice Sam padding across the room until the couch dipped and he was next to me. "Headache?" He asked, in this soft, concerned voice.

My gut screamed at me to lean a smidge to the left and let him be there for me. My head slugged my gut in the...gut...and I stayed put. "Yeah. No big deal." I smiled at him, leaning back and huddling deeper within my hoodie. "So, tell me about this hunt."

Sam hesitated a second, before shifting on the couch and leaning against the arm. "The most recent victim, Ann Morton, lives here in Lincoln Springs. We're trying to figure out a connection between all of them...burned out eyes, scorched hands and feet...sounds like angel activity, but who knows. All vics are women, but so far, that's the only thing they have in common besides how they died."

I nodded thoughtfully, both trying to focus on his words, and tune out the ringing in my ears. "Sounds like fun. No proof that it's angel activity? No word from Cas?"

Sam shook his head and sighed. "Haven't heard from Cas in weeks. He's been acting so weird since he got back from Purgatory...but lately, it's been even worse. Dean's really pissed about it."

"Huh...that  _is_  weird. Gonna do interviews tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I think that'll be the best option."

I nodded once more. "Sounds good." We sat together in silence. At least, I think it was quiet. I couldn't tell - not much got past all the ringing. "Alright - I'm gonna go to the bathroom before Dean gets back."

Sam watched me sort of struggle off the couch and make my way to the bathroom. I seriously felt his eyes on my back.  _Ugh_. Weeks with just Kevin made me comfortable with the change in body conditions the trials were wreaking upon me. I forgot how it felt to be watched. It was only a matter of time before one of them asked -

"Kate...are you okay?"

And  _there_  you go.

I smiled over my shoulder, trying to put him at east. "Yup - just really need to piss."

That earned me a half smile - the one where the corner of his mouth curls up, and his eyes crinkle. But that's as far as it went.

He knew I wasn't doing well.

The look I gave myself in the bathroom mirror wasn't pleasant. More like a grimace of disgust.

_Hollow_. That's how I'd describe myself. I looked kind of...hollow. Pain lines wrinkled at the corners of my eyes, and the furrows on my forehead took up permanent residence, rivaling Sam's. My clothes were starting to hang off me. Not eating will do that, I suppose, and there was no way to hide that.

Why'd I agree to be here?

Oh right - because I'll never say no to them.

_Bleh_.

I cleaned up, splashed cold water on my face, and willed the nausea to abate enough for me to get through dinner. The motel room door opened, and Dean's voice floated through the thin walls.

Let's get this over with, I told myself. They're gonna notice sooner or later. Might as well be now.

I held the hoodie close, and stepped back into the room. Dean was bent over the table, unpacking a couple bags of food, while Sam leaned against the back of a chair nearby.

"Hey...wasn't sure what you'd want, so I got some soup and grilled cheese."

That stopped me. Grilled cheese. Head tilting to the side, my semi-fried brain processed the concept of grilled cheese. No meat, soft texture, mild flavor...Jesus Christ, it actually sounded good. I met his gaze, and couldn't stop myself from just staring at him.

Dean always knew what to do, even without a word from me.

Great. Now I wanted to cry.

Clearing my throat, I wet my lips and walked over. "Thanks," was all I said, sliding into a seat, watching him open containers and lay food in front of me.

"Start with half, see how it holds."

I nodded, shifting in my chair, watching them sit. They also had grilled cheese (two or three sandwiches each, but still…) Frowning, I asked, "No burger?"

Sam paused, sandwich halfway to his mouth, looking to Dean who shrugged. "This was easier," was all he said.

Easier. Easier because the smell from their food wouldn't make me sick. Easier because I wouldn't feel weird about feeling weird. Easier because...he wants it easier for me.

The overheard conversation and the actions in front of me didn't quite add up. I knew their chat with Cas wasn't mean, right? But it felt way more distant than what I was feeling now.

_Sigh_.

The TV was on, providing background noise. Otherwise, we ate in silence.

**xxxxx**

_Dean's face was bursting with pain and disbelief. "I can't believe you chose them over us. Was it so bad here, that you'd throw us away in a heartbeat? There was always a chance that you'd come home. Why didn't you want to? We thought you loved us…"_

"Kate?"

_Sam shook his head. "So the first set of lookalikes you hook up with for more than a day are the ones you decide to stay with permanently? I hope they're worth it, Kate. I hope they're worth everything you gave up."_

"Kate!"

_Uriel sneered at me, "You were gonna go home, Kate. The spell wouldn't have lasted much longer. Now? You'll die here. Alone."_

"Hey...wake up, Kate...you're dreaming!"

_Older Dean leaned close, with Older Sam behind him. Their faces twisted with contempt.. "We've been planning to do these trials for a while, now. This was our shot at closing Hell for good. If you fuck it up…"_

My eyes flew open, finding Sam only inches away, his hands on my shoulders, gently shaking me. Sweat-soaked hair covered my face, I was panting and trembling, my heart racing in my chest. With a trembling hand, I wiped my mouth.

"Hey... _s_ - _sorry…_ "

Sam ran a hand over his mouth before shaking his head in relief. "It's okay - you were dreaming something...intense." He looked over his shoulder at Dean, who was passed out on his bed.

He gave me a minute to get myself under control, before reaching out and swiping my hair to the side. "You alright?"

_I hope they're worth everything you gave up._

Swallowing, I nodded. It wasn't in me to assure him any further.

I scooted back on the couch, noting a flicker of confusion on Sam's face at the movement. My regular brain told me that moving away while he was trying to be consoling was rude. My Post-Trial-Nightmare emotional side saw disapproval, resentment, and irritation in his eyes, and I shrank from it.

_If you fuck it up…_

Drawing in a shaky breath, I wiped my face and got this shit under control. " 'M fine...sorry...go...go back t'sleep." I went to pull the blanket up, but Sam placed his hand over mine, stopping me.

"Hey...it's okay. You wanna talk about it?"

I almost laughed. Of course I did. But…

_If you fuck it up…_

Expressing doubt and concern was not on the menu. Neither was crying, but tears rolled down my cheeks anyway.

_Goddammit…_

Impatiently, I wiped them away with a frustrated huff, and shook my head. My tongue wasn't working right, so words weren't gonna spill out the way I wanted. I kept my eyes on the blanket, afraid to look at him.

You could almost taste the tension. Sam wanting to do or say something, me pulling as far away as possible.

_Tonight, the role of Dean Winchester will be played by Kate Winchester, as avoidance and deflection take center stage…_

Sam looked over his shoulder again, probably wishing Dean were awake to deal with me. He sighed and nodded, backing off and sitting on the floor. Fucker's so tall he still towered over me.

I caught him running a hand down his face, like Dean. "Kate -  _c'mon_. I don't know what's going on in there.  _Please_ , talk to me."

The tingling in my limbs got a little more intense, which was both scary and annoying, making movement clumsy. Words stuck in my throat, and memories from my dream echoed in my head.

_So the first set of lookalikes you hook up with…_

I pulled at my hair a little, huffed a little, then faced Sam. A little. This time I  _did_  see worry. But then I remembered Castiel's words.  _I felt you should know where everything stood before proceeding._ "Had a bad dream." He huffed. "Just...messin' with me." I forced barely-a-smile. "'S okay."

I wiped my eyes dry, completed some John Winchester breathing techniques and settled my ass down. Sam sat the whole time, not hovering, but not leaving. He turned around, his back to me, and leaned up against the couch, giving me privacy while still maintaining a presence.

Eventually my heart stopped trying to escape my chest and the tingling subsided a bit.

We stayed like that until morning.

**xxxxx**

_**Much later the next day…** _

It'd been an hour since I heard from them.

An hour since they went to Lucifer's crypt with Meg (I was still getting over them being allies with a demon). An hour since Cas killed a witness in cold blood. An hour since Sam told me to be ready to bail, just in case.

Frustrated, I threw the remote onto Dean's bed and rubbed my eyes. I was so exhausted, but I refused to sleep all day, afraid that I'd miss a call for help.

I insisted on staying behind in the room, doing research and helping from here. They wanted backup, and I was okay with being backup. I was  _not_  okay with getting  _them_  killed because of a dizzy spell or  _getting_  killed, and screwing up the trials.

After they met with Ann Morton's husband, I was calling spouses of the other victims, to see if their loved ones were hanging bits of dirt in their basement. Not all of them did, but they all went batshit weird and obsessive just before dying.

Now that Castiel has shown himself, we knew he was responsible for all the deaths, and that every time, the victims were possessed by demons.

All I knew at this point, was something about a parchment needed by Crowley to translate his part of the demon tablet without Kevin. They thought it was in one of those crypts.

Fantastic.

I was about to yell 'fuck it', and call Sam's phone when Castiel popped in. "Christ, Cas...you...you need to not do that…" Especially since I didn't have an Early Angel Detection System here. I took a second to catch my breath. Then I realized... _shit_  - he's alone. "Where are Sam and Dean? What happened? Is everything okay? Did you find the parch... _ment?_ "

A tablet was clutched to his chest.

"That's not a parchment, Cas. What's going on?" This was Cas.  _Castiel_. I  _trusted_  him.

But the sight of him with a tablet, when he  _clearly_  told my brothers they were looking for paper, was setting off alarms.

He glanced down and sighed. "I don't have much time, Kate, but I needed to see you before I left."

"You're leaving? To go where? Cas,  _what the fuck_  is going on?"

He stared at me, sadness radiating from his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Kate. I...Dean will explain everything. But I need to show you this, first."

In two steps, he was in front of me, gently pressing his fingers to my forehead.

In a flash, I was in the War Room, back at the Bunker. Dean was there, pacing, Cas was sitting at the table. Sam came back, one hand rubbing his chin.

" _You sure she's in her room?" Dean asked._

" _Yeah - I just checked."_

" _Awesome." He pointed at Cas. "We need to sort this shit out before I fucking lose my mind."_

_Sam walked over and stood next to Dean, who said, "Cas, we wanted her safe. We didn't want her out there where she could get hurt. She's never dealt with a Hound before." He blinked for a second and added, "Actually, I wanted you_ _ **both**_   _inside and safe." He glared at Sam who just rolled his eyes. He turned back to Cas. "Why the hell did you give her an angel blade?"_

" _The Hounds knew Kate was able to detect them without assistance. I'm guessing it had something to do with the grace inside her. It was simply a matter of time before one attacked her. If she didn't have that weapon, she would be dead right now. Is that a more preferable outcome?" Cas used this reasonable tone, his expression remaining unreadable._

" _Jesus, Cas, of course not! But...why didn't you just warn her to stay put? Then, I dunno, warn_ _ **us**_   _there were two bitches out there? That would've been a lot safer for her!" He glared at Sam. "And maybe you coulda made_ _ **this**_   _one stay there, too."_

" _Shut up, Dean. Cas, we would've done anything to protect her. You made her think she had to go out there to save_ _ **us**_ _!"_

" _She left of her own accord. I simply felt that with a weapon, she would be better able to defend herself should something happen. Which it did. I am not allowed to directly assist you in completing the trials. Since I was under the impression that she was not participating, I decided to bend the rules to save her life. Was that a wrong choice?"_

_Dean sighed, and resumed pacing. Sam folded his arms across his chest, watching Cas push back his chair and stand._

" _Dean - she was fearful for your lives. That's what sent her outside. The other Hound attacked_ _ **her…**_   _she was not seeking to complete the trials. Didn't Kate explain this already?"_

" _Yeah, she did. It's just…you know our track record with saving each other." He gestured between himself and Sam. "It...it's a fucking train wreck. I didn't want her caught up in all that. The trials were supposed to be on_ _ **me**_ _. They were supposed to -"_

_Sam threw his hands in the air. "Seriously, Dean,_ _ **shut the fuck up**_ _. The trials weren't supposed to be on_ _ **anyone**_ _._ _ **I**_   _told her_ _ **I**_   _wanted to do them so_ _ **you**_   _could have a life. We_ _ **both**_   _were ready to sacrifice ourselves for the other one._ _ **Again**_ _. She just beat us to the punch."_

_Dean buried his fingers in his hair and blew out a breath. "Jesus, she really is a Winchester. She just...leapt in and spoke the spell before I could stop her! I can't believe she thinks she's expendable. What the fuck was that?" He paused and looked at Sam. "This isn't right!"_

_Cas shifted his weight, and asked, "Do you think she isn't capable of completing the trials?"_

_Sam angled himself towards Dean. "Go on. I'd like to see how you answer this one."_

_Dean gaped back. "What's_ _ **that**_   _supposed to mean?"_

_Sam huffed through his nose. "It means that it isn't a matter of whether you think someone else can do them or not. You're too busy being confident in your own ability to do them."_

_Dean shook his head. "That's not it at all, asshole. I may not make it either. But I'd rather be the one trying and maybe failing,_ _**first** _ _, that way, if it doesn't work out? And something horrible happens? It happened to_ _**me** _ _. Then you can learn from that, do it better the next time."_

_Sam said nothing at that. He just stared at his brother. Finally, he shook his head and scrubbed at his eyes. "Look, Cas, this isn't the point. The point is...we…*sigh*."_

" _You love her."_

_Dean answered, "Yeah, Cas, we do. It's been a long time since we were…" He looked sideways at Sam, who finished his thought._

" _It's been a long time since we were fighting together for something. She's...we can't lose her, Cas. We don't know what's gonna happen with these trials. With everything riding on her shoulders, we want to help as much as we can, but we're not sure about anything."_

" _I understand. I can feel doubt over her future radiating from you."_

" _We're just worried."_

" _Can't I find another Hound to kill? Do the trial, finish the rest off, and spare her?"_

" _Dean!"_

" _Shut up, Sam. If this were about you, I'd ask the same fucking thing!"_

" _I don't think you can do that, Dean. The trials weren't meant for multiple people to complete at once. She is in the midst of the spell, therefore she must finish. If she doesn't...I cannot speak to what may happen."_

_Dean picked up a chair and slammed it against the floor._ " _Awesome, Cas. That's just...fucking awesome."_

_Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "Okay - so...there's nothing we can do but...but make sure she survives this."_

Cas removed his hand, and I stumbled back a couple steps, blinking hard, my mind reeling with what I heard. "Cas...you... _why?_ " I simply couldn't process why Cas would lie to me. Why would he alter that conversation and make me think... _for weeks_...that my brothers weren't the people I thought they were?

I looked up at him, hoping for some explanation to help me understand  _why_.

He sighed, his eyes drooping in that Sad Cas way that screams regret and longing. "I have to go. Dean will explain everything. I hope you can forgive me."

Then he was gone.

"Cas!" I yelled, spinning in circles, as if yelling his name would make him reappear.

"Kate?!"

I whipped my head towards the door, hearing a key in the lock and the knob turning. "Dean?!" Lost in the vision, I didn't even hear the Impala pull up.

The door flew open, and both brothers piled inside, weapons drawn. "Cas?" Dean tentatively called out.

"Would you  _please_  tell me what the fuck is going on?" I demanded, irritated that I'd started shaking uncontrollably and was maybe about to cry.

Sam dumped his demon knife on the table, came over and wrapped his arms around me. "It's okay, Kate…"

All I could do was cling back, my hands gripping his jacket, pulling him to me. Tears spilled, breathing hurt, my head spun. One hand was on the back of my head, his voice murmured, "It's okay...Cas told Dean what he did...it explains a lot. We're sorry...so, so sorry...it's okay now… _shhhh_ …"

It took a few minutes for me to calm down. I still didn't have all the answers, but at least,  _at fucking least,_  I knew the truth.

Dean broke the silence. "Everything's packed. We gotta move.  _Now_. Sit in back with her - explain everything. I'll get us home. Potty now, boys and girls, we're not stopping for a while."

Knowing better than to question that tone, I wiped my eyes and nodded. Feeling like a little kid, I let Sam guide me to the Impala. His eyes were on me, Dean's eyes were everywhere else, watching for trouble. We got in the car, and Dean started the engine. She roared to life, and just before slamming her into gear, he turned in his seat, and motioned for me to move close.

He reached out, ran his fingers through my hair, and pressed a kiss to my forehead. One wink later, he gunned the engine, and had us speeding down the road.

**xxxxx**

Sam settled me in the back, resting against him. He explained everything that happened...that Cas had been under the control of some angel named Naomi in Heaven. They knew Cas tampered with their conversation weeks ago, with the purpose of pushing me away from the boys, and making me more devoted to the trials.

I couldn't believe it. I was pretty... _attached_...to the Castiel in my time. Being betrayed by him here felt...well... _really fucking shitty_. Glancing at Dean in the front, I knew he felt it, too.

As if sensing my thoughts, Dean looked back and caught my eye.

I asked, "I don't quite get why the angels want me to do the trials. Do they want me to fail?"

Dean shook his head. "That wasn't it at all. Had nothing to do with whether you'd succeed or not."

Well, that didn't clear it up at all.

Sam explained, "Cas said it had something to do with, um, us being vessels for Michael and Lucifer."

"Hold on," I said, "I thought that ship sailed when you put them both in The Pit."

Sam snorted. "We thought so, too. But apparently, there are some who think we should still be...preserved...just in case."

I raised an eyebrow. "In case...what?"

"Exactly," Dean chimed in. "It's fucking stupid."

Sam then explained about the angel tablet (What the fuck? How many  _were_  there?), and that Cas lied to them about it under Naomi's orders. It seemed to me that this Naomi bitch needed to die. He told how Crowley showed up and killed Meg. Sam actually seemed sad about that one, which I totally didn't get. Meg was a demon, right? She was responsible for killing Jo and Ellen...possessed Sam for a week...almost killed Dad.

There had to be more to that story.

Sam fell silent, the news of the day successfully delivered, and gently ran his fingers up and down my arm, still holding me close. I should've fallen asleep, but I was wired, processing everything.

He rubbed his cheek against my hair. "Why didn't you talk to us?"

Dean gripped the wheel tighter, waiting for my answer. Sighing, I shifted a little so I could easily see both of them. "Cas left no room to doubt what he shared with me. Besides...I've met a dozen different Sams and Deans in my jumps. It wasn't impossible that things weren't what I thought. That's been the problem with this fucking curse. I can only trust what I know...and what I know, is in stasis." I paused. "Supposedly," I added softly.

Sam nodded, understanding. His eyes roamed over my face. "And now?"

I leaned closer. "All good."

He laughed softly. "You're wiped. Go to sleep," he ordered.

I shook my head. "If I do, I'll be totally out. I won't be able to - "

"Kate." I looked up at Dean. "We got this. Do as Sam says."

Sam's hand was... _oh_...in my hair...and... _fuck_. I closed my eyes, enjoying a real solid feeling of home.

Naturally, that's when Dean's phone rang, startling me out of my  _Sam's-playing-with-my-hair_  reverie.

"Hey, Kevin...hold on…" There was a beeping sound, then, "Okay - you're on speaker. What's up?"

"Where the fuck have you been? I've been trying to call for hours!"

I bit my lip to keep from laughing out loud. Sam answered him, "We're sorry, man, we were a little...busy. We're on our way home, though. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong - I figured out the second trial! Thought you'd want to know right away."

_Oooh_ , now I was wide awake. Both Sam and I sat up a bit, leaning towards the phone like little children waiting for cookies to cool on a hot pan. Dean handed Sam the phone to hold so he could prop it up between us all.

"What is it, Kevin?" I asked, butterflies swirling in my stomach. "What do I have to do?"

He sighed. "You have to save an innocent soul from Hell, and deliver it to Heaven."

"I'm sorry...what?" Dean asked, taking his eyes off the road long enough to give a wide-eyed look at his phone.

"I know! Kate has to...go to Hell, find an innocent soul, free it, then send it up to Heaven."

It was silent in the car for a minute while we all sorted through that one.

Finally, Sam said, "Okay...uh... _fuck_. Thanks, Kev. We'll be home in a few hours." He hung up, then flopped back against the seat.

"How the fuck are we gonna find an innocent soul in Hell? Souls are in Hell for a reason!" Dean exploded, dragging a hand down his face in frustration.

Sam shook his head. "I dunno...maybe...maybe we can summon a crossroads demon and ask?"

The two of them went back and forth, trying to figure this out. My gears were turning as well.

It was obvious. It was so fucking obvious that I wasn't sure how they didn't see it already.

"Adam," I said. And all the air rushed out of the car.

"What?" Dean whispered, eyes flickering to the rear view mirror to see if I was bullshitting.

So I repeated. "Adam. Adam's an innocent soul in Hell." A surge of hope and purpose warmed me from the inside out, something I hadn't felt in ages. I grinned at them. "I'm gonna free Adam from The Pit."


	24. Chapter 24

There was some banging, mild swearing, and perhaps a muttering or two. Sam and I exchanged a look.

"His Paula Dean recipe not working out again?" I asked.

"I think he went for Rachel Ray this time," was my answer.

I nodded, pursing my lips. "How long 'til he comes in here bitching?"

Sam looked at his watch. "Now."

" _Godfuckingdammit_ , why would a recipe call for fresh yeast? Yeast is yeast, why the fuck does it matter?" Dean came stomping into the library, scowl in place, and a smear of flour on his cheek, taking the heat out of his rant.

Sam cleared his throat and I buried myself in a book to hide the grin spreading across my face. "I don't think there really isn't a difference, so just use the dry stuff."

Dean stood there, staring at Sam, unblinking. (I peeked, sue me. This was funny.) He threw his hands in the air and let out an indignant huff. "Would've been more helpful thirty minutes ago, Sam. Thanks a lot." And with that, he stomped back into the kitchen, muttering the whole way.

I set down my book. Sam and I took one look at each other and broke out laughing.

Well, we  _quietly_  laughed. We weren't stupid.

"What the hell is his problem lately?" I leaned back in my chair, sipping from a glass of water. This was a silly question, because I already knew the answer.

Sam leaned back as well, eyes darting to the hallway that led to the kitchen. He sighed. "You know why, Kate. He's worried. Watching you eat bits of grilled cheese sandwiches every day isn't sitting well with him. He's looking for new things you'll eat, to help you keep your strength up and get through this."

I sighed back at him. "I know, I know...I just...I want him to relax. There's nothing either of you can do. I'm okay...just a few...weird side effects. That's all." I grinned at him, trying to be convincing, but Sam just gazed back with worry filled Sam Eyes. I flapped my hand at him. "Put those things away, Sam. I'm not going anywhere. Yeesh!"

He shook his head, but a smile crept back onto his face. "We're gonna make sure you stay, too. So just...humor him, okay? Otherwise, we have to deal with him being seriously bitchy." He thought for a second. "Bitchi _er_ ," he corrected.

No kidding. "But obsessing about the effects isn't helping us figure out how I'm gonna get into The Cage. Cas isn't answering us, research isn't revealing much, and unless we find a demon willing to share the secret, we're still blind on this."

"Yeah. Every time I look stuff up online, I get references to Lucifer in Chuck's Supernatural books." His face soured. "I can't find  _factual_  information from  _actual_  lore."

"We need a way to cross reference online sources without picking up all your…" I smirked. "...slash fanfiction."

Sam made a sour face before returning to his book.

I still couldn't get over how people wrote stories about my brothers. It was  _weird_. I also still couldn't get over the  _types_  of stories out there. But then I thought back to my own relationship with them, in my time, and when Dean was under the Djinn's control, and...yeah. I guess it hit a little too close to home for my taste.

Tapping a pencil against my cheek, I looked at the doorway through which Dean stomped and sighed. I pushed back my chair and stood up, with minimal wobbling (hooray!). Sam looked up, and I thumbed towards the door. "Gonna go...check on him."

He nodded. "Good luck."

_No shit._

**xxxxx**

I slowly made my way to the kitchen. Dean had buried himself in here the past few weeks, declaring that he'd be more helpful there than with a book. Which was ridiculous. We needed all the help we could get figuring out how to reach Michael without the Horsemen's rings.

But yet, in the kitchen he was.

Yes, okay, I wasn't doing all that well. But honestly? I could be a whole lot worse. Headaches, dizziness, lack of appetite, ringing in the ears...all things I could deal with. It was, however, something Dean could  _not_  deal with.

He hadn't talked with me since we got back from their showdown with Cas and Crowley. Not once. Sam's been the one reading, cataloging, talking, processing...which, yeah, okay, very  _Sam_. Dean simply thrust himself into mother mode, and has not let up for one minute, determined to "fix" what the trials were breaking inside me.

I knew, without a doubt, there was no fixing to be done. He just needed that memo.

I reached the kitchen. A couple cookbooks were out, along with a mixing bowl and various food items. An iPad lay off to the side on a cutting board. In the middle of it all stood one Dean Winchester, back to the doorway, very much lost in thought. His hands rested on the counter, fingers splayed wide, occasionally curling against the formica. Head bowed, I could hear ragged breathing, like he was fighting for control of his emotions.

It's a sound I've heard one too many times.

Not wanting to startle him, I cleared my throat and softly called, "Hey…"

He sniffed and glanced over his shoulder, quickly dragging a hand down his face to maybe hide some tears and wipe away whatever he didn't want me to see. "Hey there. You need something? Water? Maybe some tea? I'll get you some tea. Sit down, it'll take a second."

Chuckling, I stepped inside and made my way over to him. Just as he reached for a mug in the cupboard, I wrapped my arms around his middle, resting my cheek against his back. He froze for a second, before turning and holding me close. His chin on my head, he asked, "You okay?"

"That's the question I'm here to ask  _you_ ," I answered, swiveling my head to look up at him. Which was a  _bad bad bad_  idea...head rush...dizzy spots... _fuck_. Eyes closed, I lowered my head and grunted. "That was seriously bad timing…"

Sighing, he held me tighter. Propping me up, he placed one hand on the back of my head, steadying me against the sensation of spinning loosely in space.

He said nothing. He didn't have to. I could feel his chest rise and fall in an irregular pattern, a telltale sign that he was not doing well.

Kneading my fingers into his back, I murmured, "I'm  _okay…_ "

Dean shook his head and huffed. "Right."

Equilibrium restored, I stepped back a little so I could more easily look him in the eyes. "Hey... not saying I'm perfect. There are a few...changes." He snorted. "But it's not the end of the world, Dean. A little dizziness, some headaches - "

"Cas said you're changing...at the cellular level. He can't...he can't even heal you, Kate."

"I know…" Sam spilled that tidbit a while ago. "But what can we do? We're still gonna finish the trials, still gonna shut down Hell for good."

He swallowed, eyes locked on mine. "It wasn't supposed to happen this way."

I nodded. "I know.  _*sigh*_  And I know you're struggling with this." He snorted at that. "But we'll get through it. Right now, our focus should be on getting to Adam. Not cooking for me. So I'm eating grilled cheese all the time. At least you figured out that's what I can eat!"

Conflicting emotions flashed across his face. Guilt for not helping research. Conviction that he could fix me. More guilt because it was me, and not him. Guilt that Adam was still there.

"Ease up on the guilt. It doesn't help. And, I dunno, maybe ease up in general."

He shook his head. "You gotta...you gotta let me take care of you. It's all I can do," he added, in a whisper.

"And no one does it better, Dean. For seventeen years, no one's done it better." I reached up (carefully) and booped him on the nose. "Come on. Help me find something useful online that doesn't involve you fucking Sam."

He groaned, covering his face with his hands.

**xxxxx**

A few days later, I decided to go jogging. I was going stir crazy being cooped up inside, and despite the dizzy flashes, I could keep my feet under me. ...For the most part.

"Are you fucking insane?" That was Dean's response when I told him my brilliant plan that morning. He rolled himself out from under the Impala and threw an oily rag across the garage as he stood up.

I crossed my arms and leaned against the tool box. "No, I'm being serious. I feel like I'm wasting away. All I do is huddle in chairs and sleep. It's pathetic."

Dean wiped some grease off his face with his sleeve (which really only smeared it more) and looked at me like I just said I was going into Lucifer's Pit.

Hmm...bad analogy…

"Did it occur to you that the reason you're huddled in bed all the time is because you're sick?"

Um. Duh…?

"Did it occur to  _you_  that maybe if I got some exercise, I'd feel better?" His jaw clenched, and I imagined him mentally doubling down. "Dean -  _c'mon_. I'll go slow. I'll be careful. I'll - "

"Take me with you? Why, that's a great idea, sis. Let's go."

We both turned to find Sam strolling towards us, already dressed in sweats and a t-shirt. He stopped in front of us and bent to tie his shoe.

Dean stared at him incredulously. "You're going along with this crazy plan?"

Sam glanced up. "Yeah, why not? I'll make sure she's okay." He pulled his laces tight and stood up. "You trust her with me, right?"

Ha! He had Dean, there. I grinned. "Yes!" I tugged on Sam's sleeve. "Let's go!" I gave Dean a peck on the cheek, and the two of us scampered out of the garage.

"Be careful! Don't be gone too long! Come back if you start to - "

"She'll be fine, Dean! Seeya in a bit!" Sam placed his hand on my back and steered me outside.

The crisp autumn air hit me full in the face, and I practically drank it in. We quickly stretched, then set off at a leisurely pace.

I cannot fully describe how amazing it felt. All the pulsing/tingling crap faded to the background, as each step hit on the concrete. Breathe in for two steps, out for two, in, out. After a couple minutes, my mind wandered, and I enjoyed the feeling of freedom, even though I had a babysitter.

Sam kept silent, but I could tell he watched me closely for any sign of trouble. No trouble here - I felt great.

And it seemed like forever since I felt great.

We turned a corner and Sam led me off the road and down along a pathway that entered a wooded area. It was pretty, it was peaceful, it was perfect.

Eventually, we ended up in a clearing. By this point, my lungs were starting to burn, so I signalled for him to stop. We leaned against trees, me panting like mad, and Sam, who barely broke a sweat.

Awesome.

But I wasn't going to dwell on that. I knew I was sick. I knew I wasn't well. What did I expect?

"Shit...shoulda brought some water…" Sam muttered, pushing the hair out of his face and frowning at my inability to catch my breath in a timely manner.

Hand flap. "It's...okay. Just...heh...gimme a sec." I stood up, hands on my hips and grinned at him. "Hoo, boy, I'm out of shape."

Smiling back, he walked over and pushed hair out of  _my_  face. "You're doing fine." He wiped his hand on his sweats (cuz...sweat…) and stared out into the clearing, allowing me a chance to recover without being scrutinized.

I, however, leaned back against the tree, and studied  _him_. It'd been so long since I thought of my own Sam. A not-so-small twinge of guilt rose in my belly, when the reason why hit me.

_This_  was now my Sam.

The finality of my situation was accepted months ago. This was my life, now, and I wasn't crying over it. But it  _was_  strange that I hadn't even considered my other family in so long. That I no longer differentiated  _this_  Sam from  _that_  Sam.

_Other_  family. As if  _they_  were secondary.

More guilt, and a wave of tears sprang in my eyes. Sensing a mood shift, Sam turned, frowning at my apparently obvious distress. "Hey...what's wrong? You hurt?" His hands were on my cheeks, assessing, questioning, worrying.

I shook my head and rolled my eyes upward, letting out what was supposed to be a dismissive laugh. "I'm fine. Just…" I waved my hand around, trying to find the words. But I couldn't. So I laugh-sobbed and wiped my sleeve across my eyes.

Sam nodded, and took a step back to give me some room, returning to gazing at the swaying grass in the clearing.

I tried again, after sniffling. "Sometimes, I forget I'm not from here."

He arched an eyebrow and looked over. "Is that a bad thing?"

Shaking my head, I explained, "No...not in itself." I moved to stand next to him, needing to feel a little closer. "But sometimes, I feel guilty, like...I'm betraying them."

Sam nodded again, this time, understanding. He ran his fingers through his hair and let out a breath. "I dunno how you do it, really. I'd go batshit crazy if I were you. I'd be constantly trying to get back home." And we both knew, by  _home_ , he meant back to Dean. "I can only imagine how messed up it feels." He cast a sidelong glance my way. "Are we that similar, that you actually forget sometimes?"

I tilted my head, thinking. "You're older, you know? There are distinct differences, because you've had so much happen. Back there, it's only been a couple years since Stanford. Besides, here, well, Dad's gone...and Bobby and Adam...so yeah, some things hit you in the face. But at the center of the lollipop?" He smiled. "You're still you...and yeah, you're that similar. You both are." I squinted up at him. "That's the only thing that saved me."

Huffing, he added, "Also made you leap into the trials." Then he winced. "Fuck...that sounded like Dean. Sorry…"

I pushed him a little. "Nah...you're right." I kept my hand on his sleeve for a moment, fiddling with the fabric. Sighing, I let go. "I don't regret starting this, Sam, even though the angels set me up."

Sam looked down at me, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. "I know." He reached out and pulled my ponytail. "We'll get through it. Ready to head back?"

I took a deep breath, noting the prickles shooting into my lungs. "Yeah...but I'm thinking I should walk." I looked up apologetically. "Guess I only had a one way ticket in me…"

"No problem. It's nice out, and you were right. It feels good to get out."

The walk back was filled with idle conversation, easy companionship, and a big brother's arm around my shoulders.

**xxxxx**

I napped almost immediately upon our return.

Big surprise.

I woke up to a hand gently shaking my shoulder, another carding through my hair, and soothing words trying to cajole me out of my dreams.

"C'mon, Kate. Time for dinner."

Oooh, right. Chicken. No. That was a few days ago. Right? No. Wait...

A throaty chuckle sounded right next to my head. "No chicken tonight. Made a different kind of mac and cheese. Thought you might like it. Would ya wake up for me? Hmm?"

It was a struggle to open my eyes. Everything was fuzzy, and I just wanted to sleep more.

I heard a sigh, and more fingers were in my hair. "Okay...go back to sleep."

It was my turn to sigh sleepily, and return to my dreams.

**xxxxx**

Next time I woke, everything  _felt_  quiet, even though I heard some music, paper rustling, soft muttering.

Blinking sluggishly, I got my bearings and started to sit up. A blanket slid from my shoulders to the floor, and any second now, Dean should be -

"Hey...'bout time you woke up."

...hovering.

Rubbing my eyes like a toddler, I yawned. "Hey…" The word stuck in my throat, which was incredibly dry, sparking a round of coughing that seemed to bubble from the bottom of my feet.

"Whoa...hold on…"

Hold on to what? I couldn't really breathe - all the air was being pushed out in a fit that would not end.

A glass was pressed to my lips. "Drink a little," came the order.

I managed to stop hacking long enough to wet the inside of my mouth, and  _oh fuck_ , it felt fantastic. It was as if my body knew water was there, and the coughing abated long enough for me to take a sip. The cool liquid slid down my throat, and I enjoyed the break from coughing my lungs up.

Afraid to take a deep breath through my mouth, I clamped my lips together, took measured breaths through my nose, then drank some more.

Dean shuffled a little, sitting next to me. One hand rubbed up and down my back, the other tucked hair behind my ear.

"Jesus, feel like I'm four," I mumbled. Dean huffed. Then I remembered being four...living with my mom who was always high, never around, and just... _no_. I swallowed some more water, and amended my statement. "Scratch that," I rasped. "I meant seven. Feel like I'm seven."

Dean gave me a weird look, so I explained. "Dad got me when I was seven. That's when I met you. Was never taken care of at four. So can't be four. Doesn't work. Seven's better."

"Uh…okay…" Dean said, his hand wavering on my back for only a second before once again smoothing out the wrinkles in my lungs.

Realizing I wasn't making sense to him, I sighed. "Mmmm...sounded better in my head," I offered, waving dismissively. "Nevermind."

Dean chuckled.

"What time is it?" I asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"One."

"In the morning?"  _Holy shit…_

"No - afternoon."

Oh. That's not so bad. I was only out for a few -

"The next day."

_Wait_. "What?"

"You went jogging  _yesterday_. Came back, passed out for almost twenty-four hours."

Well, fuck. "Huh...that's... _huh_." I wiped my mouth with the napkin.

"Yeah. I think we're done with the whole exercise thing."

Aw, shit. "So what? I slept in. Big whoop." I nudged Dean with my shoulder. "I recall you sleeping off some spectacular benders, so you're not really in a position to judge, mister."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "That's not the point, and you know it," he grumbled. "You hungry? Saved you some food..."

I shook my head, pretty sure that food wasn't what I wanted. I held up the glass. "This is good for now, thanks."

Disappointment flashed across his face before he nodded, acting like it was no big deal. Wanting to throw him a bone, I added, "Maybe in a bit...when I wake up more?"

We both knew that wasn't gonna happen, but he brightened all the same. "Yeah, okay. Want more water?" He nodded at the almost empty glass.

Nodding, I smiled gratefully at him.

He took the glass and wandered off for the refill. Resting my head in my hands, I processed that I slept for a full day. That was impressive. I sighed, and immediately, the prickles were back in my chest, up my throat, and I was caught yet again, in another fit. Clamping the napkin over my mouth, I just let loose, trying like hell to make it stop. Every one hurt, burning my throat.

Anytime you wanna return with that water, big brother…

The coughing slowed, leaving a dry throat and a threat to start again. I swallowed convulsively, trying to moisten my mouth and throat and keep my breathing calm.

In that moment, I noticed it. It was a taste I'd experienced before, but not in a while. Metal - the distinct taste of metal filled my mouth. I swallowed hard, and glanced down at the napkin, which now rested in my lap.

And there it was.

Blood. Bright red spots bleeding ( _ha-haaaaaa…_ ) into the fibers. Nothing major, nothing disgusting, but it was unmistakable.

Now adding coughing up blood to the list of symptoms.

"Here you go! One cold glass of...water…" Dean's voice trailed off as he caught sight of the napkin. I held it up, offering an apologetic, lopsided smile as a side dish. "Is that blood?"

Nodding, I waited for a feeble attempt at humor on his part. Instead, I got a look of horror, panic, and  _Christ_ , his hands were shaking.

I gently took the glass and tugged on his wrist. "Sit down before you fall on me." Greedily, I took a sip, hoping to wash the taste out of my mouth.

" _What the fuck_ , Kate? You're coughing up blood, now?"

I half shrugged, glass still in my mouth. "Apparently," I said, taking another swallow. I was going for nonchalant, because Dean was clearly going for freaked-the-fuck-out.

And sure enough, he pretty much exploded. "I  _knew_  it. I  _knew_  you shouldn't have gone out.  _Goddammit!_ " He thrust a hand in his hair, running it back and forth until it ended up gliding down his face and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I can't... _you_  can't...fucking... _fuck_. This is  _not_  good, Kate." The words continued. And continued.

Setting the glass on the table, I decided to diffuse this ticking bomb right away. Granted, all I wanted right then was coddling.  _I just coughed up blood_. It was  _so_  not okay. But Dean looked close to a heart attack, and that was way worse in my book. I scooted closer, and without any warning, I just...snuggled.

Practically shoving myself at him, I wriggled close, nestling my head under his chin, hoping that the unexpected closeness would trigger Big Brother Caretaker and stave off Big Brother Worrier.

It took  _maybe_  a second. His rant wavered, torn between wanting to scream at the universe and stand down, because a little sister in need was burrowing her way onto his lap. "I... _fuck_.  _*sigh*_ C'mere…"

Strong arms were around me. He leaned back, letting me lie on top of him a little. Our heartbeats drummed together, both way too fast for our liking, but that was on the inside. I focused on the outside, projecting calm, trusting that he knew how I felt, but that I needed to take this in stride. Because like I said, it didn't matter. I was still finishing the trials, so adjust, accept, and move on.

Dean let out a breath. "How much worse is this gonna get?"

I shrugged. "Lots, probably." The arms squeezed me tight. "But we'll deal, okay?"

He exhaled again, ruffling my hair with his breath. He geared up for some sort of lecture, when Sam and Kevin came in.

"Hey! We found something!"

I crumpled the napkin in my fist and sat a little, Dean's hand guiding me up. "Yeah? What'd you find?"

Sam's ever-assessing eyes swept over the scene, knew something was up, but chose to wait on asking when I shot him a look.

Kevin, missing it all, babbled on. "We've been spending so much time focusing on Christian lore, that we closed out the possibility of information from other myths and religions." They sat down, opposite us, and I had to smile at Kevin's unbridled enthusiasm.

"Why would you look at other religions? Except maybe Judaism. I mean, Lucifer belongs to that one, right?" Dean was bristling, partly from not understanding, and partly at being interrupted.

Sam scratched his head and used his  _I'll help you understand this_  tone. "Dean - all religions blur together in some way. There are always crossovers. Remember all the gods Lucifer killed with Gabriel? And we helped kill Zeus not that long ago, right? If we try to go into Hell, chances are, Crowley will figure it out before we get anywhere. None of his demons will give up information to  _us_ , and Cas isn't exactly around."

Dean muffled a grown at that.

Kevin continued, "So we started looking outside conventional religions, and guess what? There are a ton of cross-references between Greek mythology and stuff in the Bible. It actually sometimes refers to Hell as Hades, and Tartarus is the same thing as the Lake of Fire."

"Wait, I read about that…" Sitting up more, I pushed through the fog in my brain and tried to remember some of the shit I found in Bobby's books. "That's where Lucifer was supposed to be, right?"

Sam nodded. "Where he actually  _was_ , though, was definitely  _not_  a lake, and there weren't any other souls around. Well, except Michael and Adam. But I mean there weren't other random souls around, which the actual Lake of Fire is supposed to imprison. So his cage has to be something else."

"How is this helping us?" Dean demanded.

Sam cast a  _Chill Out_  look Dean's way, not understanding that this wasn't helping to quell the panic Dean was feeling just a few minutes ago. I set my hand on Dean's arm, squeezing gently, and asked, "Okay, so looking to the Greeks, we can maybe find some way to get to Hades that doesn't involve Crowley's minions?"

Kevin beamed. "Exactly! And we found one. It's Charon, the guy who's supposed to transport dead souls to Hades."

"Wait," Dean held up a hand. "The dude who's half horse? He's our guy?"

Kevin and Sam blinked at him. I leaned over and whispered, "That's Chiron. Totally different person."

"Oh…" Dean frowned. "Uh, continue, then."

Sam recovered first. "Charon is considered a god in actual mythology, but lore says he's also a type of demon. Just not one of Crowley's demons. Since the heavens and hells are all kinda mixed up in various theologies, I bet Charon can get us into the underworld, and then our Hell."

Dean's eyes widened. He was hooked.

Kevin went on, "In order for your soul to be transported to the Land of the Dead, you have to pay him with silver or gold coins. So we were thinking...summon him, pay him extra, make a deal to get in and out of Hell, and voila - transportation provided."

They both sat there, grinning and waiting for some sort of praise. "Wow...just... _wow_. Okay, so, where do we go from here?" Prickling caught me by surprise, and I pressed the napkin to my face, trying like hell to force it back. Coughs muffled into it anyway. Dean had the water right there, hand on my back, eyes focused.

Pulling away the napkin, I clenched my eyes shut and gulped some water, desperate for the burning in my chest and throat to stop.

"What the hell... _Kate?_ " I cracked open an eye and saw Sam pointing at the napkin, now covered in bright red spots on the outside. "Dean?" He sounded almost accusatory, like Dean and I hid this from him.

Dean sighed. "Yeah, newest discovery." He grabbed a fresh napkin off the table and swapped out the gross one.

"Shit…"

Kevin stared, wide eyed, not sure what to say. Feeling really uncomfortable under all the scrutiny, I shoved the glass at Dean and wiped my mouth. "I'm fine. Focus on the trial, gentlemen."

"Kate…"

Rolling my eyes, I looked at each of them in turn. "Let's be logical about this, okay? There are three trials. I'm kinda sucky after the first one. Totally got that. But there are three! That means, no matter how bad you think I am, I should still be able to finish the other two. If the first trial was designed to kill the person doing it, then why the fuck would there be three?"

I mentally congratulated myself for that brilliant piece of logic. I struggled to my feet, determined to make it to the bathroom on my own, regardless of the three sets of eyes gawking at me. "Furthermore, if I have to listen to you three sob the whole fucking time, I'm gonna shave your heads in your sleep." I paused to glare at them. "And I'll do it, too." I pointed at Dean. "That haircut I gave you when I was in the fourth grade will pale in comparison." He blanched.

"Now. I plan on taking a leak, then helping figure out a plan for getting this Charon dude to cooperate. I'm gonna look like shit, I'm gonna feel like shit, and I'm only gonna get worse. Get over it."

Feeling satisfied at their chastened looks, I turned and wobbled from the room, grabbing every piece of furniture on the way to ensure I didn't fall on my ass and ruin my performance.

**xxxxx**

It took a several more weeks. But in the end, we were pretty confident in our plan. Which was loosely sketched. And based on several pieces of possibly inaccurate lore and some spells found in the Men of Letters' Archives. I should also mention that there were a lot of unknowns, and without a celestial being ( _Thanks for nothing, Cas_ ) to help, we were shooting a little blind on this one.

More than a little blind, maybe.

The more we figured out and plotted, the more Sam's feelings fractured. On one hand, he loved the thrill of discovery. Figuring out the pieces to a hunt was what he loved about hunting. It wasn't the fight, it was the knowledge.

But in this case, the more knowledge we had, the closer it came to me going to Hell, the place his soul was trapped for a hundred-something years. It brought back memories, surfaced new fears, and bluntly put?

It freaked him the fuck out.

Sometimes, I'd catch him turning this way and that, as if looking for something. Or some _one_. I mentioned it to Dean one day.

"He may be remembering when he hallucinated Lucifer."

Awesome.

The next time I saw him doing that, we were (thankfully) alone in the library.

"Hey...Sam?"

"Yeah?" He didn't face me, his eyes still darting around the room.

"Sam!"

"Huh? What?" Now, I had his attention. Worry lines instantly appeared as he assumed something was wrong. "You okay? What is it?"

I softened my tone and ruffled his hair. "It's just us in here...okay?"

His expression turned sheepish, and he ran his fingers through his hair. "Yeah...yeah, I know. I just… _*sigh*_ " He looked around, then sat in a chair, motioning for me to sit with him. "Listen, I've been meaning to talk to you about...about The Cage."

"Okayyyy…." He sighed again, clearly distressed. "Sam, we can do this later. Really, it's - "

"There  _is_  no later, Kate," he snapped. Yet  _another_  sigh (good grief), fierce face scrubbing with his hands, and he tried again. "I need you to understand what it's like in there, so you're prepared. We've been spending all this time gathering spells, items, plans and alternate plans, but nothing to prepare you for... _them_."

Silently I nodded, watching him stand and start to pace. It was obvious he needed to talk, so I let him. "It's really cold in there. Everyone thinks it's hot, but it isn't. It's so cold, it hurts. Adam's...by now, I don't see how he'll even be cognizant of what's going on around him. We were both out of it when I got yanked, so by now he's...just, don't get your hopes up. Lucifer's so fucking pissed off at being back there. He did a lot of things to me, which, on one hand weren't real, because he didn't have my actual body. But on the other hand, they were, and he did them, and…"

"Whoa, Sam, slow down!" His voice was rising in pitch, with almost-slurring words tumbling out in unconnected blurbs, and I could feel the anxiety bursting inside him. I grabbed a wrist and pulled him back into his chair. He bit his lip, apologizing with a look, so I pressed my forehead to his and held his face in my hands. "Slow. Down."

He nodded, his hair brushing against mine, falling in our faces. He took a careful breath, then tried again. "They will try to hurt you. And by hurt you, I mean things like…" He huffed. "...slicing open your chest and ripping out your lungs, then putting them back and sewing you up."

Oh. Okay, well that stopped me for a second. I swallowed. He nodded. "It's all about control. They have it, and they use it. You...you have to be careful." His expression told me he understood the ridiculousness of that last part.

I sniffed. "So they play Operation for real, then."

Sam snorted and sat back, keeping my hands in his. "The plan we made is good. Or at least decent. Or...the only option we have, actually."

"Thanks, Sam," I said dryly.

He rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. It...I think...I think it'll work." He grimaced at his uncertainty. "Look, if it doesn't work - "

"If it doesn't work, I'll abort, like we talked about. Look, I'm not telling you not to worry, because I know better. But I am telling you that we've planned as best as we can. It'll be okay. I promise."

It was a stupid promise. We both knew it. But we also knew I needed to say it, and he needed to hear it.

**xxxxx**

The night of the summoning, we went into the basement, to the room Sam'd been working on for a week. Various wards and symbols decorated the walls and ceiling.

I hefted the backpack onto my shoulders, and nodded at the spray paint handiwork on the floor. "We should try different colors, you know, for fun. A purple and pink Devil's Trap would be awesome."

I was totally going for levity. Instead, my comment earned two scowls and a huff. "Well, fine. I'll try my material somewhere else."

Sam rolled his eyes and set his shoulders. "Okay...everything in the bowl?"

Dean gestured at the table. "Yep. All set. We ready?"

There was a collective nod.

"Here we go." With a grim expression on his face, Dean lit a match, and dropped it into the bowl. "It's show time."


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is myth and imagination all cobbled together. No looking too closely, now. There are also some graphic descriptions...may not be a big deal, but thought I'd give a warning anyway.

Flames leapt high as the spell ingredients caught fire. Blue smoke rose from the bowl, curling into the air with a design that, under normal circumstances, would've looked really pretty. If blue smoke existed under normal circumstances.

Sam intoned the spell, and we waited.

_Impatiently_.

Dean kept looking this way and that, spinning his body around to ensure that every corner of the room was watched. Sam's hands were folded across his chest and he rocked back and forth on his heels, eyes also darting everywhere.

I...just stared at the Trap, waiting.

Luckily, we didn't wait that long.

An old man appeared in the middle of it, dressed in rags. He smacked his lips together and spun a slow circle, taking in his surroundings. Finally, his eyes settled on us. Tucking his hands in his pockets, he whistled, low and long.

"So. It's been a long time since I've been summoned like this. To what do I owe the pleasure?" He looked us up and down. "None of you seem dead, so…" He had a faint New York accent, and seemed so unconcerned about his situation, that I actually started to doubt this whole thing.

Sam stepped forward. "We're seeking passage to and from the Underworld, with the ultimate goal of getting into Hell and the Pit of Lucifer."

Still no surprise, no shock. No reaction at all, really.

Unless you count that intermittent lip smacking thing as a reaction. If you did, then this guy was reacting all over the place.

Finally, "Well, well, well. Why do the living want to go to Hades? Hmmm? And what's in it for  _me?_ " He jabbed a thumb at his chest, emphasizing his question.

"We can pay," Dean offered, showing Charon a bag of coins we, um,  _acquired_. Charon eyed the fabric sack appreciatively, tongue darting out to wet his lips when Dean shook it.

I...he... _ew_.

"Hmmm...so, passage for one in and out of Hades, with a stop in Tartarus, eh?" Charon rubbed his hands together, his eyes never leaving the coins.

Until Dean snatched it back, waggling a finger at him. "Nuh-uh, passage for three."

Charon's eyes lazily swung up, resting on Dean's determined look. " _Nuh-uh_  right back at you, sport. That's payment for  _one_."

Sam scoffed. "The value of those coins is priceless. There's plenty for three. You can't - "

"I can, I will, and I believe I just did." Charon focused on Sam, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Like I said, I haven't been summoned for passage like this in a very long time. The Underworld's changed a lot since then; new rules, new protocols, not to mention inflation, rising costs, etcetera, etcetera." He waved a hand around, like we should totally get his point.

Dean's jaw clenched, and before he blew this whole thing, I took a deep breath, and gently moved Sam out of the way. "Passage for one, then. You'll be taking me."

A deep rumble came from the back of Dean's throat. I reached behind me and tugged on his shirt.  _We knew this would happen. It's okay._

I took the bag from Sam, avoided staring into The Eyes, and faced Charon with determination and bravery.

And a seriously queasy stomach.

"You can get me into the Christian Hell, and to Lucifer's Pit, right? And bring me back?" I wanted to make sure before I committed to anything.

"Young lady, I'm on the wall in the Sistine Chapel. Painted by Michelangelo himself...although he made me kinda fat…" he grumbled that last part. "I am the transporter of souls for all ways to the Underworld, regardless of what you humans call it. I can get you to both places, and back. Where you go when you're not on my boat is your business. I guarantee safe passage - that's the rule - no matter who or what we encounter. But once we're there? Making sure you  _get_  to my boat is a whole other thing." He winked, as if this was a private joke.

If it was, it  _really_  wasn't funny.

I glanced at the boys, making sure everything sounded okay to them. Even though nothing about this was okay. They both watched me, glanced at each other uneasily, then nodded.

Alrighty - this was a go.

Nodding back, I handed over the bag, taking a firmer grip on the backpack we prepared. "What do I do?"

He snatched the sack and tucked it within the depths of his clothes. After cracking his knuckles (oh, shoot me now…), he gestured at the Trap. "I need to do my thing, so if you don't mind…?"

Sam huffed, then scraped a section of the Trap off the floor. A flash of light caught us by surprise, and before I could even say goodbye, I was gone.

**xxxxx**

Next thing I knew, I was on a boat.

...and cue that annoying comedy song Dean sang incessantly just to remind Kevin of his time living on one.

Charon stood at the bow, a long pole in his hands. Was he actually humming "O Sole Mio"?

He glanced over his shoulder and nodded at me. "Welcome to my boat. Keep your arms and legs inside at all times. Anything hanging over the edge may end up...removed." He resumed rowing (poling?). "As promised, I will ferry you to Hell and direct you to The Pit. Then you're on your own. You have twenty-four hours. If you don't return after that, I will leave, and you will remain here. Is that understood?"

I nodded, then realized he couldn't see me. "Yes, understood." He nodded back approvingly at my words, and we continued downstream.

The boat wasn't terribly long, and it looked like it'd seen better days. The wood frame creaked and groaned with every push forward, and if I didn't know I was riding in  _the_  Charon's boat, I would've fretted over its safety. I sat in the middle, backpack clutched to my chest, hopefully keeping my heart from bursting out of it.

It was dark, but it didn't feel like we were outside. There were no stars, nothing to guide us, and the air was just so... _still_.

I caught glimpses of movement all around us, but whenever I turned my head to look, nothing was there. Not helping calm my nerves. Clearing my throat, I asked, "Where exactly are we?"

He let out one of those cackles. "We're on the River Styx, my dear. Soon we'll cross with the Acheron, and then you'll be at your destination."

I didn't have a memorized map of the Greek Underworld. The river names sounded familiar, so I assumed we were on the right path.

The passage continued, dark, a little clammy, and oppressively quiet. No, wait... _not_  quiet. "What  _is_  that?" I asked softly, afraid of the answer. Whispers and murmurs reached my ears, crawling and creeping over the edge of the boat, pulling at me. For a brief moment, I felt like jumping overboard and swimming back to the Bunker.

Charon laughed. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." Great - he could read minds. "I  _am_ a god, too, remember? You're hearing The Cocytus - the river of wailing."

"It doesn't sound like wailing, though, it's - '

"Whispers, right? Eh, we're a long way from Cocytus, so from here, it sounds like whispers." The pole went back in the water, and we pushed along.

How loud was it when you're right there?

_Erg…_

It felt like the ride would never end, and all the rhythmic rocking, coupled with my normal, daily exhaustion ganged up on my hunter's awareness, lulling me into a glazed half-sleep. For being in the Underworld, it was actually kinda peaceful, until I woke suddenly to something scraping the bottom of the boat. Jumping a little, I blinked furiously and looked around.  _Awesome_  - same stimulating landscape. Only... _wait_.

What was that in the water?

Charon sighed, and scrubbed at his eyes. "I hate this part. It's kinda sad to watch, because -  _Hey!_  Get your motherfucking hands off my boat!" He viciously jabbed a pole into the water, and a long, keening wail bubbled out of the river. I clamped my hands over my mouth, and watched in horror as a body,  _a goddamn body_ , was impaled on the end. Charon growled and shook the pole furiously until it slid off and into the water, writhing and flailing as it sank. Pole now free, he gently pushed again, and we picked up speed. "As I was saying," he continued in the calm tone from before, "It's sad to watch these poor damned souls tryin' to get out, but they never will. Still," he perked up, "they're here for a reason, right?" He grinned over his shoulder, laughing at my horrified expression. "Welcome to the Underworld, little lady. Welcome to the Underworld."

I fought to keep my stomach quiet as the ride became a little bumpier in spots. Occasionally, a skeletal hand would grip the side of the boat, or something would slither along the length of the hull. Goodbye soothing rhythm, hello heart-stopping fear. I kept reminding myself,  _Adam...Adam...Adam_...it kept me grounded, focused on the task at hand.

_Not_  at the seemingly endless stretch of river in front of us, full of bobbing bodies.

Out of nowhere, we reached land. Seriously - I did not see it coming, so when the boat suddenly rested against a rickety dock, I shook myself to make sure it was real.

"Oh, it's real alright. Don't you worry." Charon settled the pole inside the boat and turned to me, his face all manner of serious. "Now listen carefully to my instructions. Like I said, once you leave this boat, you're on your own." He turned and pointed and the barren landscape before us that...wasn't there a second ago.

_Huh_.

"Think of this as a hub, leading into all the different underworlds. The hub lives in Hades for the most part, because that's where I work...well, for the most part. All you gotta do, is head that way." He pointed again. "You'll find two large rocks soon enough. They won't be too far apart, but not too close, either."

Jesus Christ, he gave directions like Dean explained recipes. ( _ **Some**_   _salt, Sam, that wasn't some!)_

"That's one of the portals in and out of your Hell. Walk between 'em, and there you are. You know how to get into your Pit?"

I nodded, wetting my lips nervously.

He nodded back. "Okee dokee, then." He reached into his rags and pulled out...a watch? "Stopped using the sand timers a while ago, ever since one broke in my pocket and I got sand all in my -  _nevermind_. It's set for twenty-four hours from now." He handed it over, and I held it tight. "Don't be late."

Another nod.

Maybe a swallow or two. I was really doing this. Holy shit, I was literally in Hell.

"Well, what're you waiting for?"

_Right_. I stood on shaking legs, and clasped the dock for support as I disembarked. As soon as my feet were firmly on shore, the boat, and Charon disappeared. I heard a faint, "Seeya later, alligator."

_Good grief._

The timer beeped, startling me. A quick glance showed bright yellow digits, counting down.

_Time to go!_

I shoved the watch in my pocket, swung the backpack on my shoulders, and set off. The ground was littered with rocks and dead plants, all looking like someone just sprinkled them there as an afterthought. Not quite what I expected, given all the souls trapped in the river. Perhaps I was going off stereotypical images of Hell, but I found myself looking for all the fire and brimstone, screaming and wailing souls, and maybe, I dunno, monsters.

Then again, Charon said this was a landing port, so I guessed the flames would appear in Hell  _proper_.

I picked up the pace, worried that I'd run out of time. After the last jogging incident, I wasn't keen on picking it up  _too_  much. But I walked a  _little_  faster.

Again, I had no sense of time down here, so I just kept going until the boulders appeared in the distance.  _Then_  I jogged (a little), stopping in front of the rocks, catching my breath.

After a quick glance around, I squared my shoulders and stepped between them.

The deserted landscape disappeared, only to be replaced by...a dungeon. No, really, it was a dark, damp, chilly, smelly, spooky-assed dungeon. Cell doors lined the hallway, some with arms hanging through rusty grates, others solid. I  _did_  hear moaning and wailing, names of loved ones, pleas for freedom, promises of better behavior and apologies for sins.

Dad and Dean voluntarily sent themselves here, and were tortured for decades. Sam was trapped in a  _worse_  version of this for over a hundred. I'd only be here one day, and I knew the scars would never leave. How did they do it?

I mentally shook myself. Ponder later, Kate, you need to find Adam.

I pulled the demon knife out of the backpack, feeling a tiny bit better with a weapon in hand. Although against every demon in Hell, it probably wouldn't do much. Sill, it was better than nothing.

The first thing I did was carve a  _W_ into the wall, to mark where I entered, my version of a breadcrumb.

Knife in hand, I shouldered the pack and carefully made my way down the hallway, staying clear of the hands beckoning me closer, and stepping over the limbs of bodies chained to the walls. Sweat dripped into my eyes, and I dragged a sleeve across my forehead to wipe it clear. Every nerve was on high alert, waiting for a demon to discover my mortal ass shimmying down the corridor.

I peered left, and found, to my surprise, an empty cell. After a quick check, I ducked inside and closed the door, careful not to latch it shut. I'd never hear the end of it if I accidentally locked myself in Hell's dungeon.

According to Greek lore, and Sam's knowledge of most things academic, Tartarus was located below The Underworld. From what we learned in the Men of Letters' archives, Lucifer's Pit existed in the same space as Hell, just with a slight shift in dimension. The shift served as the prison,  _in_  Hell, yet  _not_  in Hell. Although it's called a Pit or a Cage, it isn't a typical rectangular shaped prison cell. Rather, Lucifer had the run of a prison that encompassed an infinite amount of space, contained within another infinite amount of space.

Yeah, made my head spin, too.

Since it co-existed with Hell, there wasn't a specific entry point. As long as you were already  _in_  Hell, you just needed a spell cast by a mortal to gain access. Opening the Pit from Earth is like sounding an airhorn upon arrival. When Dean opened it topside, no one was in it, so there was no danger. A dimension phase from Hell itself was quieter, making it easier to sneak in and find Adam.

Supposedly.

In theory.

From what Kevin inferred off the demon tablet.

_Half_  the tablet.

Anyway.

I swallowed, took a deep breath, and recited, " _Bvtmon Tabges Babalon"_. At first, nothing happened, and I grit my teeth in frustration. But then, the bricks on the wall started shifting, swapping places, popping in and out, looking like a 3D movie gone wonky. Taking a step back, I had to blink a few times to make sure it wasn't my vision crapping out on me.

After a few seconds, they shimmered and crumbled away, exposing a large opening, big enough for me to pass through without stooping. Huffing, I brushed hair off my face, and stepped inside.

"Whoa... _shit…_ " The words left my mouth in a rush, as the frigid temperature hit me. Sam did warn that it was cold, but this was...this was  _cold_. Vapor hung in front of my face, a visual reminder that I had spoken, that this was real. Fumbling to pull my hoodie closer, I tried to speak the counterspell clearly, without tremors or stutters.

" _Chdr Bvtmon_."

The wall sealed itself with a  _poof_ , earning a chuckle. Who would've thought there'd be poofing in Hell?

I looked around to get my bearings. Apparently, Lucifer's Hell took the form of a house. Which, seemed odd. But then again, this wasn't  _my_  prison, so house it was. However, this was  _Lucifer's_  prison, so it wasn't going to be a normal house.

I stood on a landing, with stairs leading both up and down. Carpet runners covered hardwood floors, the classic geometric designs and once vibrant colors common in decorative rugs faded in the center as if from years of use. Stone pillars stretched from floor to ceiling, surrounded by dark wooden staircase railings that disappeared from view when I tried to see what lay beyond.

So...I had to walk through a creepy fucking house, in Hell, dodging the Devil himself.

_Awesome_.

But Adam was here...somewhere...so it was worth it.  _He_  was worth it. I took a quick peek at the timer - over one hour gone already.  _Fuck!_ Well, Sam also warned me that time moved differently down here, so what felt like a few minutes, could very well be over an hour in Hell time.

_More awesome._

Tucking hair behind my ear, I crouched down, grimacing as dust swirled from the carpet, and pulled some items out of my backpack. My hands shook from the cold, which I swore crept deep inside my body when I wasn't looking.

I was fairly certain I'd never be warm again.

Pulling the knife from my pocket, I made a small cut on my arm, hissing as the cold hit the wound. Pressing one of Dean's old bandanas against it, I soaked up the blood, adding some holy water and myrrh to the mix. I muttered a few words in Enochian, " _Dorepaha_   _Dluga Siasch_ ", and voila - one location spell ready to go.

It kicked in instantly, urging me to go down those stairs to begin my search.

Gripping the railing for support, I cautiously made my way down the steps. My heart hammered in my chest, and it took a lot of effort to control my breathing and not spiral into a freaked out mess. The cold was so absolute, that I shivered uncontrollably, forcing a much tighter than normal grasp on the knife, which I kept out just to make me feel better, not because it would do any damage whatsoever against angels.

Luckily, there weren't many steps. As I reached the bottom, I found myself in a hallway, dimly lit (although I had no idea where the light came from) and eerie as fuck. Fragments of plaster cluttered the carpet, exposing holes on both the walls and ceiling. Claw marks etched into the walls ran the length of the corridor, ending with large holes on each side of a doorway.

It was almost impossible to avoid stepping on a chunk of plaster - pieces were everywhere. Every time my foot connected with a piece, the resulting crunching noise sounded deafening in the absolute stillness. I winced, teeth firmly biting my lower lip, waiting for something to leap at me.

Much to my surprise (and relief), I reached the end of the hallway without incident ( _hooray…_ ) and faced the closed door, dreading having to open it, but determined to do so all the same. Adjusting my grip on the knife, I counted in my head.

One…

Two…

_Three!_ I yanked it open and crouched, ready for...nothing.

I sagged against the doorframe, one hand on my chest, willing my heart to stand down and not trigger cardiac arrest. I swiped a hand down my face and stepped into the room.

An old piano stood in a corner, the wood chipped and splintered. Several keys were missing, others were cracked, and moldy sheets of music drooped over the edges, threatening to spill onto the floor. A few chairs, covered in filthy sheets, created a sitting area, with an overturned end table between them. On one, sat a doll, missing an eye and one leg.

Totally cliché, I snarked in my head.

Until I noticed the bloody corpse of a young girl, lying broken on an adjacent chair, arm outstretched toward said doll. Her eyes were wide and vacant, her lips parted like she died screaming.

_That_  forced a step back and a lurch in my stomach.

It was one thing to look at scenes like that in pictures, or even in a video game. It was something  _else_  to stand  _in_  it.

Gulping down air through the fingers I pressed against my mouth, I smothered a sob, willing myself to keep quiet. I crossed the room, as far away from the body as possible, and practically ran through another doorway, which led straight to...another room. This one was filled with the rusting frames of a dozen cots, all haphazardly tossed on a cracked tile floor tinted with dark, red stains. The faucet of a wall mounted sink dripped what looked like blood into the basin, overflowing into a growing puddle on the floor. The  _plinking_  of each drop made me flinch, encouraging a jog into the next room.

This continued for some time - each room just as spooky as the last, differing in decor and the room's purpose. A kitchen housed corpses burning on the stove or impaled by kitchen knives on the wall. Others had rotting bodies in bed, pinned to ceilings, or no bodies at all, just hints of horror that fueled my imagination.

The strain from maintaining a consistent adrenaline rush began to take its toll as I waited for bodies to leap at me or an object to pin me against a wall. At each doorway, my Dean side rolled its eyes because  _Ooooh_  - another disturbing room. My John Winchester side smacked the Dean side on the head, ordering me not to get complacent.

It was after the twentieth room that I started to panic a little - what if Adam was so well hidden that I couldn't reach him in time? I checked the watch, and discovered that eight hours had passed.

_Goddammit!_

I was considering what to do when the exit from a disgusting bathroom (which included a bathtub full of mutilated bodies taking a shower) took me to a small landing, with a winding staircase leading up. Which was great, because nothing horrifying could possibly be waiting up there.

I ran my tongue along my teeth, wondering whether I really had to go up there. The spell tugged me forward. Sighing, I laid my hand on the metal railing, only to hiss and pull it away.

The ice cold metal scorched my skin, leaving a dark red splotch across my palm that I knew would blister and scar. Sucking on the burn, I tucked the knife in my pocket, and slowly climbed, making sure to stay in the center and not touch the railings. I also gave myself stern instructions to ignore the way the entire staircase swayed under my weight, groaning and creaking with every step, making the passage even more treacherous.

As soon as I reached the top, a gust of wind hit me in the face, almost knocking me backwards. Despite the frigid temperature, I was sweating. Wiping hands on my jeans, I stepped into another corridor, this one completely dark, requiring a flashlight to be dug out of the backpack that bobbed as I shivered from more than the cold. Mist blanketed the length of the hallway, swirling around my ankles, licking up my legs, hovering near the feeble beam of light.

I closed my eyes and steadied myself. I could do this. I could. I had to.

One step.

I only took  _one step_  before the whispering started. " _Who's heeeeeere…?_ " It echoed over and over again, snaking around my ears, bouncing off the walls.

Oh, fuck.  _Busted._

Even though it was ludicrous to think that I arrived undetected, the lack of interaction was sort of encouraging. But there were no illusions anymore. They knew I was there.

Against my will, a small whimper escaped my lips. I thought of my Castiel, and for the first time in months, I actually prayed to him, even though I knew he couldn't hear.

_Help me..._ _ **please**_ …

Wiping a shaky hand across my mouth, I guardedly walked down the hallway, barely holding back the urge to sprint, afraid of what the sudden movement would bring.

That corridor continued for, I dunno, maybe miles. It definitely felt like miles. When a door appeared at the end, I unclipped the leash on my fear and ran for it, sucking in a breath before wrenching it open.

This time, I entered a large atrium, three stories tall. The space was lined by walkways on every level, complete with pilar supported arches circling the room. Each arch was adorned with ornate carvings, some decorative, others appearing to be actual symbols and figures. Glass fragments lie everywhere, grinding to dust under my feet as I walked. Looking up, the ceiling was primarily stained glass, broken into segments by wood beams, giving the appearance of a massive comic book painted on a ceiling.

Some of the sections were shattered, explaining the pieces on the floor.

Beyond that, was nothing - only absolute darkness keeping guard over the prison.

I took a few tentative steps, then noticed that the location spell somehow...shut off. My eyes darted left and right, as if the movement would jumpstart the spell and resume telling me which way to go.

Nothing.

Okay, that meant one of two things. Either the spell did stop working, in which case I'd have to take the time to recast it, or...or Adam was  _here_.

Given my need for something,  _anything_ , positive, I chose the latter, and began to explore. The perimeter of the room was shrouded in darkness, since the second story balcony provided its ceiling. There was  _no fucking way_  I was walking across the open floor, so I stuck to the walls, my eyes everywhere as I moved.

When I got to the far side of the room, something, or some _one_ , mussed my hair, scraping roughly against my scalp. Nothing was near me, at least nothing I could see. But I felt it all the same.

Swallowing heavily, I took another step. This time, something trailed across my shoulders and down my chest. I quickly unzipped my hoodie and saw a thin trickle of blood seeping through my shirt, across my shoulders, down my chest.

_OhJesusChrist..._

"Well,  _helloooooo…_ "

I... _fuck_...

I gripped the backpack tight like a teddy bear, as if holding on was my only hope.

And it kinda was.

Ghostly laughter skittered through the room.

Turning around, I watched a brilliant flash of light zip across the length of the room.

Dean warned that staring at an angel's pure form would burn my eyes (something about a woman named Pamela…) so, suspecting that the light was ( _aw, shit_ ) Lucifer or Michael, I clamped my eyes shut.

But closed eyes meant I couldn't move effectively. Although honestly, I wasn't sure I could move at all.

I've been scared on hunts. I've been scared for my family (see: Hellhound incident that started this whole thing). But  _this_  fear, this sheer sense of terror, was beyond  _anything_  I've ever felt in my life, and probably ever will.

Hunting a vampire  _with a spork_  was preferable to this.

Peeking through slitted lids, I saw another light appear, this time clashing with the first, causing one of the ceiling panes to crack and splinter, showering the floor with more shards. The light show illuminated the entire atrium, providing the opportunity to quickly scan the space for any signs of Adam.

The effort was futile, because I knew the whole fucking room was empty. I sucked in a sigh and frantically tried to figure out what to do next. Inching my way forward, I thought that maybe,  _maybe_ , I could get out of the room and find somewhere to hide. Which was what my gut screamed for me to do.

My inner Bobby firmly informed me I was an idjit if I thought that would work. I was in  _Lucifer's Pit_ , and he just discovered me. Where the fuck was I supposed to hide?

Still, I desperately needed to do something other than just stand there like bait.

"Where ya goin'?" I whipped my head around - that was  _in my ear_.

"There's nowhere to go…" I spun in the opposite direction, but still saw nothing.

"We haven't had a new toy in  _aaaaaaaages…_ "

_Oh, JesusChristfuckingfuck!_ The whimper that escaped was no longer small.

"Ooooh, it's a  _girl_...a  _girl_  came to visit us. I wanna  _plaaaaayyyyyy…_ come on, let's  _plaaaaayyyyy..._ "

OKAY, that one was  _right in front of me_.

Something brushed past, grazing my cheek, slicing into my flesh. "Look, Mikey, she bleeds...so... _perfectly_..."

Blood coursed down the side of my face, soaking the fabric of my shirt. The pain left me gasping.

The air crackled, and I shrank from the sound.

"How many times do we have to go over this?  **Don't…** " Clap of thunder, and wind that knocked me on my ass.

" **Call**..." More thunder, and I smelled the unmistakable scent of ozone, as electricity surged over me, shooting tingles up and down my arms.

" **Me**..." Lightning flashed. I flinched, as more glass cascaded from above.

" _ **Mikey!**_ "

The swirling flashes of light were back at it, zipping all over the place and into each other. Every collision shook the building, rattling my teeth.

_Hold on._ They were fighting over...a nickname?

Seriously?

Dean was right - archangels  _were_  douchebags.

From the midst of the firework display, a small, green crackling sphere of light fell, crashing into a corner of the room, followed by a loud cry of pain.

_Ohmygod_ \- Adam!

All fear gone, or at least properly stowed momentarily, I bolted towards him, resisting the urge to yell his name, hoping the fighting angels wouldn't notice I'd moved.

I slid the last few feet on my knees, glass digging into my skin. " _Adam…_ "

It  _was_  him.

Curled into a quivering little ball, sobs rocked him back and forth. His hands were in his hair, pulling and twisting, small tufts drifting to the floor as a result of the massacre. He muttered words, or phrases, maybe...Enochian? I wasn't sure.

I just knew it was him.

And I was getting him the fuck out of here.

"Hey,  _hey_...Adam? Hey, sweetie - it's me, it's Kate...I'm gonna...gonna get you outta here, okay? Hey...lookit me…" Impatiently, I wiped away the tears that streamed down my face. "C'mon, baby...look up…"

Then he did.

And I  _almost_  wish he hadn't.

Hunters have haunted looks. It came with the job. We've witnessed everyone's nightmares come to life, and were not always able to save the day. The failures weigh heavy, drowning successes all the time.

This look wasn't haunted. It was beyond  _anything_  I could imagine. Dull, yet brimming with horror and terror, pain and suffering. It wasn't sane. It almost wasn't Adam.

Hands furiously pulled at his hair, as he scrabbled further into the corner, his words slurring together, if they were even words at all. Spittle flew from his mouth and his nose was running.

Swallowing a fresh sob, I pulled my sleeve over my hand and gently wiped his face, despite his flinching as I invaded his space. "Shhh...It's okay... _oh God_...it's...it's okay…"

But it  _wasn't_  okay.

For barely a second, I imagined Sam in here, and  _Nonono_ , I couldn't go there.

Not now.

Maybe not ever.

Adam's eyes widened as they looked past me, over my shoulder. I closed  _my_  eyes.  _Shit, hey're behind me, aren't they?_

Sure enough, I got yanked by my collar and dragged backwards, away from my baby brother. Guttural noises that must have come from me, filled the air as I tried to get away. My legs kicked and flailed, scattering glass everywhere. My backpack, somehow still in my grip, flapped about like a rag doll.

Maniacal laughter rang throughout the room, made all the more scarier since my eyes were once again firmly shut.

" _Now, now, now_...you can't take our best friend. What would we do without him,  _hmmmm?_ " Lucifer let out a throaty chuckle, his breath like ice, burning the gashes on my cheek. I cried out in pain, encouraging more laughter. He pulled my collar tight, the fabric choking off most of my air supply.

Michael was behind me. Like,  _right_  behind me. Even though he was a blob of light, I  _felt_  him pressing close. "Can't stand being bored," he whispered in my ear, "and I'm  _always_  bored, these days, since your brothers trapped me here." He chuckled, soft and sinister. He pulled my hair, and I screamed from the unexpected pain. "So.  _Another fucking Winchester_. But...not a  _normal_  one. Something's off with you. Tell us  _alllll_  about yourself."

"Can  _not_  wait to hear your story…" Lucifer murmured, sucking on the hollow of my neck, his touch searing my skin. "...and we have  _plenty_  of time."

Shuddering, I wiped the blood streaming down my cheek. Trying to project a calm that, in no fucking way did I feel, I cheekily spat, "Fuck.  _You_." I slammed my bloodstained hand onto the banishing sigil drawn on the underside of my backpack.

A gust of air tore the angels off me. One or both of them shrieked, then everything went silent.

I stumbled a few steps at their rapid departure, no longer held up by their presence.

Not sure how long they'd be gone, I ran back to Adam, who hadn't moved, and didn't appear to have noticed anything that happened.

I pulled out Dean's bandana and quickly wiped the sticky trail of blood down my cheek and neck, grimacing as the fabric brushed against the cuts. They were fairly deep, and I knew I'd need stitches. Lots of them.

"Okay, little brother, it's time to get out of here...come on...let's go!" I worked really hard to use a soothing tone, so as not to spook him further. To me, it sounded like a barely contained freakout, interrupted by tremors, sobs, and gasps of pain.

After two unsuccessful attempts, I finally hauled him to his feet, and started moving back through the building, thinking we'd return to my entry point. Two steps showed the folly of that thought.

We weren't inside that building anymore. We were on a field with,  _oh hey_ ,  _look!_  flames and smoke in every direction. Apparently Lucifer took his house with him.

A quick peek at the timer, and I almost shrieked. Well over half my time was gone.

_Over half_.

When I stopped moving, so did Adam, slumping to the ground, and resuming that tight little ball shape.

" _Fuck_...Adam,  _nonono_...come on, we gotta move!" Tugging on his arm, I tried to make him uncurl and walk with me, but nothing worked. He just lay there, crying and muttering and rocking.

I gingerly knelt next to him, shoved my hands in my hair, and fought against another wave of tears. Okay - settle down and think, Kate.

The Pit co-existed in Hell, right? Since it didn't matter where I entered, let's say that the exit point also didn't matter. More important than anything was getting  _out_  of The Cage before Michael and Lucifer came back. I'd figure out getting to Charon after that.

Okay. I wiped my nose, adjusted the pack, and spoke the spell. There were no bricks to criss-cross, but a shimmering portal did appear in front of us. I grabbed Adam under his arms and started to drag him forward.

" _Leaving so soon, bitch?_ "

" _We were just getting to know you…_ "

_**OhGod,OhGod,OhGod…** _

The murmur wasn't on top of me, but I  _heard_  it, I  _felt_  it, and that made it close enough.

"Now, Adam!  _Move!_ " Summoning a strength I didn't naturally possess, I lifted his rigid body and shoved him through the portal, following right behind.

Something grabbed my backpack just as I stepped inside. I yelled the closing spell as I twisted, breaking free, but not before razors sliced down my arm. Crying out, I landed partly on Adam, shielding his body with mine, until the portal closed.

Furious howling faded into the distance as the shimmer dissipated. I gave myself a few seconds to cry, Adam's tattered shirt tight in my grip.

Sniffling, I sat up, wiped my eyes, and checked our surroundings. Naturally, we weren't in that cell. I mean, why would we be? I ran so far in The Pit, it made sense we were somewhere else. What threw me for a second, was that we weren't even inside that dungeon.

There must be more to Hell than that lovely place.

We were sprawled on a street corner, in what seemed to be an abandoned city. Dilapidated buildings lined the road, like, what, a demon ghost town? I hung my head.  _Great_. Nothing familiar, nothing to indicate what direction to move.

I checked the timer.

Nine hours left.

Better and better.

Looking down at Adam, I knew there was no way I would make it dragging him. I hoped he would snap out of it, maybe respond to my voice or...I dunno. This Adam didn't know me, so deep down, I knew that wish wasn't realistic.

Still.

Sighing, I checked to make sure we were alone, then pulled the knife from my pocket, which miraculously hadn't fallen out. "Okay, buddy...this is gonna sting a little...but...when we're done, you're gonna…" I took a deep breath. "You're gonna be okay. You'll be with your mom.  _I promise_ …" Leaning over, I brushed his hair out of his eyes and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

His eyes flickered to mine, and for a second, I thought he recognized me, even though it was impossible. I cupped his cheek, running my thumb across his skin, sniffling and smiling, as if that would make him feel better.

He just turned away, resuming that incoherent babbling, ignoring me altogether.

Carefully, I made a deep cut along his arm, and a similar one on mine. Pressing the wounds together, I chanted, " _Conjuncti sumus, unum sumus._ " Yellow light surrounded his body. I pulled back, watching him slowly disintegrate, the light engulfing him entirely and flowing straight into  _my_  incision.

When I'd fully absorbed his soul, my arm bulged slightly, glowing from within, illuminating the veins and arteries already damaged from the first trial. The wound sealed itself shut, so I tugged down my sleeve. After checking the gashes on my  _other_  arm ( _ehhh_...I'll live…), I picked up my pack, cradled Adam against my chest, and…

... _and what?_  I needed a doorway back to that Underworld hub, but there were no rocks here, nothing that looked like the doorway I stepped through originally.

_Goddammit!_

Alrighty, then. Only thing left to do was start moving, keep looking, and maybe...maybe I'd get lucky?

_Right_.

Carrying Adam was a lot easier than dragging him, especially since I wasn't sure which way to go. Sure, it throbbed and felt as heavy as a lead bar, but I could move fairly quickly, and if we were attacked, well, I could at least protect him better than if he were a trembling mass at my feet.

The city appeared to be the same in every direction, and to make this even worse (which, come on, how could it get worse?), I swore I was being watched. I caught glimpses of silhouettes in the windows above, or a flicker of movement just out of sight.

There were too many hiding places for demons or other creatures, which made me all kinds of nervous.  _More_  nervous. More nervous _er_? I wasn't buying the empty or abandoned bit, so I quickened my pace.

I jog-walked several blocks, fueled by some serious motivation to get the fuck back home.

When a particular kind of howling reached my ears, the same howling I heard the night of the first trial, I started running.

I stumbled, managing to right myself and keep going. Sweat poured off me, despite the cold that still permeated every cell in my body. I paused long enough to wipe my forehead and check the timer.

Oh. Oh,  _fuck_.

I had less than an hour.

_How?_  How did that happen?

I let out a cry of despair, frantically looking around one last time.

I needed somewhere to hide.  _I didn't have time to hide_. I also had nowhere  _to_  hide.

The overwhelming urge to scream was barely controlled by the need to not broadcast my location. Wiping my eyes once more, something inside told me to  _head East_ , and since East meant right on a compass, to the right I went, regardless of whether it really  _was_  East.

Brilliant.

I dodged piles of garbage and other debris that started to appear. Pretty soon, some of the buildings were in ruins; large blocks of concrete were flung across the road, mixed with smaller pieces. Rapid movement was becoming increasingly  _not_  rapid, since the larger chunks forced me to climb over them and the smaller ones required a lot of dodging. Keeping my balance was more difficult without the use of two hands to keep steady. I was so terrified of hurting Adam that I did everything possible to protect that arm.

Even though that meant moving slower.

When vines and branches sprang from the ground, slithering and wrapping around my ankles, I admit, I started to lose it.

_Keep moving. Go left._

Excellent. Imagined advice. Exactly what I needed. But I listened anyway. What did I have to lose, really?

So I took the next left turn, each step jarring my body, each breath burning my lungs.

I checked the timer, and gasped. I had ten minutes.

_Ten minutes._

That's when I stopped, sank to my knees, and sobbed. The vines crawled over my legs, urging me to stay. The howling in the distance sounded closer than before, and I knew, without a doubt, that I failed.

I failed, and Adam would be trapped here forever, and Sam and Dean now had to go through the trials, and -

_Whoosh!_

Something scooped me up, carrying me through the air. I couldn't help it - I yelped, which, okay, if I had to be honest, it was definitely more of a scream.

My first thought was that a flying monster plucked me off the ground to be a late snack.

My second thought slapped the first thought. No sharp talons were cutting into me. No animal sounds came from whatever was whisking me across Hell. Whatever grabbed me, gently cradled my body like a child, warmth spreading through me for the first time in days.

We flew at an amazing speed, so much so, that I clenched my eyes shut to keep from throwing up. Because that's what I needed - a trail of vomit leading every demon and Hellhound straight to me.

In what felt like seconds, we traveled what I knew was an incalculable distance. When we slowed down, banking right, I risked a peek. We flew straight through an archway, sitting alone, in the middle of a field. In an instant, we were above the rocky, barren landscape of the hub.

Still struggling to figure out  _what the fuck_  happened, I was dropped, landing with a thud, onto something hard and solid. A downy caress lingered on my cheek, warming the scars on my chest, then disappeared.

"Well, lookit who decided to drop in. And with only one minute to spare."

I squinted up at the amused face of Charon, who shoved his pole into the water, pushing us off the dock. "Was it worth it?"

Hugging my arm closer, I answered breathlessly, " _Absolutely_."

**xxxxx**

Charon said we were safe on the boat.  _Those were the rules._  I chose to believe him, because I needed a minute, just  _one fucking minute,_  to calm the fuck down before I had a heart attack.

It was quiet, so quiet that I looked up and found Charon studying me. He gestured with that pole. "When were you gonna tell me about the stowaway?"

I blinked at him, knowing better than to lie and too exhausted to engage in conversation. Opening my pack, I pulled another small sack of coins. "Will this cover it?"

He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "You're somethin', you know that?" He reached out and took the bag, shaking it slightly before stowing it away.

Relieved that I wasn't going to be tossed into the river for smuggling Adam on board, I hugged him closer to me, adjusted my ass so it was now seated properly on the hard, wooden bench, and thought over the last twenty-four hours... _particularly_  the last ten minutes.

All I could think was...how'd he know to come? How'd he even  _get_  here?

He did say he'd always find me. My head dropped and I breathed a small laugh.

On the off chance he could hear me, I sent a sentiment into the atmosphere.  _Castiel_ ,  _I fucking_ _ **love**_   _you._

Maybe I was wrong. It was a longshot, and a bizarre one at that. I couldn't conceive how he got to me, given that I hadn't heard from him in months and my current location was  _Hell,_ in another reality. Maybe it  _wasn't_...

But  _fuck_...I ran my fingers over the scars on my chest. The warmth from that touch remained, although now faint. But even  _thinking_  it was him...well.

_Yeah_.

Not wanting to see any more of Hell than I already did, I kept my eyes focused on my precious cargo. It was so  _heavy_ , pulsing painfully on my lap, almost burning, requiring me to shift its position from time to time.

The ride home, it seemed, was shorter than the trip in. I chalked that up to an almost insane desire to return to the safety of my brothers, along with a burning need to never,  _ever_ , visit this place again.

We floated for a while, until...we just stopped.

"Alrighty. This is it." Charon set his rowing pole on the edge of the boat and faced me, hands on his hips and a smile on his face.

What the fuck was he smiling about?

"This is what?" I asked, looking around and wondering where the Bunker was.

"This is where you get off."

I blinked at him. "Uh...is this where I got on?"

Charon snorted. "Nope. You're close, though."

Um….I shifted on my seat, my face scrunched up as I tried to sort through his words. " _What_...I don't understand."

He smirked a little. "You paid for one passenger, round trip, but you're coming back with a second soul." I started to protest, but he cut me off with a wave of his hand. "Yeah, you paid extra, but that was after the fact and it wasn't enough to cover the potential danger of getting caught smuggling."

Oh, come on. "You've got to be kidding me. That second load of cash had the same amount of money as the first, which should've been enough for the second round trip."

He tilted his head from side to side. "True. If you were honest with me. Which you weren't. He waggled a finger at me. "I like you, kid. You got an angel to zip through Hell with a pack of Hellhounds on your asses. For that sight, I didn't dump you right at the dock. Instead, you'll just get off here."

I looked around, simultaneously thrilled that my hunch on Castiel was correct, and mortified because... "Where? There's no land, no - "

"Don't need land. It was nice doing business with you."

_What the -_

A second later, I was in the air and hitting the water. The frigid temperature took my breath away, and I sank faster than I could swim. Before I could fully register what happened, or ponder whether something unsavory lurked beneath the surface, I fell to... _the ground_ , landing between a garbage can and a brick wall.

On land.

Apparently in an alley.

Mental Note: Drink lots and lots  _and lots_  of alcohol once home.

At least I was dry.

My head rang, vision was a bit blurry, and my arm burned, swollen and tingly underneath my sleeve. A siren sounded, and I jumped. Jittery much? Feeling like I just drank a gallon of coffee, I fumbled inside my backpack and retrieved my cell phone. It took only three tries to press the tiny power button, activate the GPS and get my brothers on speed dial.

Dean answered before the first ring finished. "Kate?  _Kate!_  Where are you? Are you okay? What's going on?"

"You gonna let me answer?" I snapped, almost crying in relief at finally hearing his voice. I was seriously still on edge.

He sighed. "You're on speaker. Are you in the bunker?"

I looked around and awkwardly scrambled to my feet. "I'm in an alley...somewhere. I...I don't know where I am…" I pinched the bridge of my nose, hating how young and scared I sounded, because really, losing it  _now_  was ridiculous. Still, I didn't consider myself safe until I was with them.

"Why the fuck didn't he bring you back here?" Dean growled, in response to my voice.

"Charon didn't appreciate the extra soul on the outbound trip," I explained, leaning against the building for support.

"You paid him though, right?" Dean asked.

Rolling my eyes, I answered. "Of course I did. He said it wasn't enough, so he took me close to home, but not quite there."

"Fucking demons. Hold on a sec, Sam tracked your phone."  _Oh, thank God_. "You're...wait,  _what?_  Seriously?"

"That's what it says, Dean."

"Jesus Christ. Kate, you're a couple blocks from here. Hang tight - we'll be right there."

Before I could tell them not to hang up, Dean hung up.

_Goddammit._

I wanted to hear their voices some more, a firm reminder that I was out, that this was now real. Sliding to the ground, I hugged my arm tight, wincing as a few tears dripped onto the cuts on my cheek.

Taking stock of the damage, I knew I was in for a really long first-aid session.

A few minutes passed, and after checking my phone, I sighed in relief when it turned out to actually  _be_  a few minutes.

At first, I thought I imagined it.

"Kate!"

Maybe Lucifer and Michael were fucking with me, making me think I was here.

" _Kate!_ "

And maybe I imagined Cas as well.

"Holy fuck... _hey_ …Kate?"

I looked up, and drank in the sight of Dean, running full steam down the alley, slowing down to crouch in front of me.

"Oh, God...you... _fuck_. Sam's bringing the car, I couldn't wait, I just...holy shit…" Tender hands turned my face, and he examined my cheek and the gashes on my arm. "You're gonna need a lot of stitches…"

Nodding, I wiped a hand across my eyes. "And whiskey," I whispered. "I need a  _lot_  of whiskey."

Dean huffed a laugh, and plopped down on the concrete, a hand dragging down his face. "You okay?"

I nodded. "Adam first, then...then I demand some serious babying."

Our eyes met, his searching mine for information he knew I couldn't share just yet.

_You're out. You're safe. You did good._

I huffed a half-smile, and he ruffled my hair. Remembering Lucifer doing the exact same thing, I flinched, and he froze, hand hovering over me.

Shaking my head a little, I nudged him.  _I'm okay._

He just sighed back.

I must have completely missed the Impala's engine, because the next thing I knew, Sam was running down the alley towards us. Feebly, I waved, and he shot me this weird look, a cross between amusement and confusion. "Hey -  _whoa!_ " The blood stopped him.

Flapping a hand at him, I said, "I'm okay. Just...let's get Adam where he belongs... _please_."

Sam looked to Dean, who nodded at him.  _Talk later._  Sam nodded back and helped me stand, taking the backpack while I pulled the knife from my pocket. After exchanging a look, I cut into my arm, spoke the spell, and watched a swirling mass of green light zigzag its way to Heaven.

Kind of an anti-climactic moment considering everything I just went through, but so what. Adam was in Heaven, where he belonged, and if anything could help him, it was Heaven.

At least, that's what I told myself.

I was so entranced watching Adam's ascent, I didn't notice Dean dabbing at my cheek, or Sam checking the gashes on my arm.

"Alright, let's complete this trial and get you the fuck home," Sam murmured.

"Yeah…" I wiped my eyes and dug the spell out of my pocket. " _Kah Nuh, Ahm Dar_." The words left my mouth, and pain shot through my entire body. I cried out, bending at the waist, clutching my arm which glowed a sickening yellow-orange. It felt the same as the first trial, searing pain, lit up arm, overwhelming exhaustion.

I was vaguely aware of Sam and Dean calling my name. Not wanting to worry them more than they already were, I gasped, "I'm okay...it's...I'm okay. Just gimme a minute…"

It took more than a minute for the pain to subside, making it okay to breathe. Straightening up, I gazed up at them, my eyelids already fluttering closed. "Can we go home now?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credits: The spells used in the story are the actual spells from the show, and credits go to the Supernatural wikis out there for the info. The location spell was one I made up using an Enochian translator (the things you can learn). Loosely translated, it means "look about (and) give brother".


	26. Chapter 26

Cranberry juice. I bet cranberry juice would cut through the metallic taste that seems to have coated the entire inside of my mouth.

"Alrighty, here we go. John Winchester's famous kitchen sink chicken stew. Jesus, say  _that_ three times fast. Time to get some of this down."

I had absolutely no recollection of Dad making any kind of stew for us. Bobby? Sure. Dad?  _No_. Unless it involved ramen noodles and peanut butter, I'm pretty sure Dean's bullshitting, here.

"I'm not hungry. Maybe later."

"You gotta eat something."

Even though Dean made it, I was pretty sure  _I_  couldn't get it down.

"Later, Dean."

"This will all still be here while you eat. Look - I'll even do the airplane spoon thing."

" _No_. We  _need_ information on the third trial."

" _*sigh*_  I  _know_ we do, but you've been  _obsessing_  for weeks. You're not sleeping, you're barely eating..."

_Wait for it..._

Dean slammed his hand on the table, rattling the silverware. " _ **Sam!**_ "

_Aaaaand_  that's when I decided to step in.

Pushing my chair back, I slowly stood up, gripping the table for support. "Sam... _c'mon_." Tugging on his sleeve, I pulled him away from GlareFest 2013, where he and Dean fought over who was more stubborn.

There were no winners in that contest.

Sam yanked his arm out of my grasp and stumbled to his feet. Good grief, we were a pair of weeble wobbles.

Running a hand over his mouth, he rubbed slightly glassy eyes and took a step back, looking like a kid trying to escape major punishment. "Just...just let me work. I gotta...there's a lot to go through and we're losing time."

Dean's eyes narrowed as he tossed a napkin on the table. "There a timeline I'm not aware of, Sammy? Something that says you gotta bury yourself in this for two fucking weeks straight and not come up for air?"

Sam shook his head, lips pressed together, jaw tight. He avoided eye contact with both of us, white-knuckling the back of his chair.

" _Then take a break_. You're sick - burning up worse than her, man!"

Well, thanks.

" _I can't._ " It came out a broken, ragged whisper. "I should...I should keep trying."

Dean's whole demeanor softened. His shoulders sagged, and he pulled at his forehead. "Sam...c'mon…you know I - "

"It's  _fine_... _I'm_  fine." Sam nabbed his book and a couple file folders off the table, passing a hand over his eyes real quick. "I'll be in my room."

We watched him slink away, only slightly grazing the doorframe. If 'slightly grazing' applies when it's several inches of graze. As soon as he left, Dean slammed a chair into the table, growling in frustration.

I sat back down with a small  _Ooof_  when my ass hit the leather. Dean's eyes slid to mine before joining me. He practically radiated  _What Do I Do?_ , so I figured I'd help.

... _Riiiiight_  after this coughing fit...which bubbled up out of nowhere, deep and harsh, no end in sight. Dean leapt up, grabbing napkins off the table to catch the droplets of blood that were all too familiar now. When it finally passed, I was bent at the waist, panting into a handful of bloody tissues pressed to my mouth.

Our eyes locked as we waited to see if it was over.

One breath. Two.  _Threeeeee_...all good. I slowly straightened, brushing hair out of my face and wiping my mouth. "I am one elegant son of a bitch, let me tell you," I rasped.

Dean held up the garbage can so I could dispose of the mess. "That you are, but you're  _our_  elegant son of a bitch."

"Mmm...even better." I swallowed down some water, which only served to slosh the blood around my mouth. Awesome.

He set down the can, blowing out a shaky breath through trembling fingers. Worried, scared eyes searched mine. Two siblings down - one had an easy fix but refused care, the other relished the care, but couldn't be fixed. A perfect Dean Winchester nightmare.

Eager to get back on the Sam track, I kicked him. "Hey, remember when Sam was, like, thirteen, and he spent that summer bitching up a storm about how his life sucked?"

Yeah, okay, the stupidity of that question wasn't lost on me, and we both cracked up.

Dean wiped away tears, still chortling. "Shit, Kate, you're gonna hafta be more specific than that. I believe that was also last month."

I did this a lot, now, talked to them as if we'd been together our whole lives. The trials just...messed with my head. I couldn't keep the two realities separate anymore, so I didn't bother, and they never corrected me. Sometimes events actually matched up - minus my presence - and it changed our whole dynamic. Made things more... _fluid_.

I flapped a hand at him, trying to stop giggling. "Okayokay, hold on," I wheezed, hand on my chest, desperately trying to catch my breath. "What I meant was...that summer in North Carolina when you lit into his ass, and dumped all the shit you've done for him, all the shit you've given up for him, on his lap, then stormed out of that cabin and left him to 'suck on it' for almost two days."

Dean blinked, staring past me, like he was reliving that incident. " _Fuck_ , yeah, uh, I actually do. Dad was hunting all over the area - "

"And the wendigo in the forest preserve was the first one."

"Jesus, yeah! Wow...that's... _wow_."

"Okay, so you remember that little speech you gave, right?"

Dean sobered up immediately, seeing where I was headed. "Yeah, but Kate, this was...this was different."

"But nothing, Dean. You spoke how you felt, and there's nothing wrong with that. You always hold it in, a classic martyr." His look turned positively acidic. "You disagreeing?" Now, he huffed. " _Right_. And sometimes you need to blow off steam, especially when Sam's pushing you."

"He wasn't pushing this time, Kate."

"True," I conceded, "But my point is this. You still needed to vent. Not spit little digs here and there, not passively mention things, not be a  _douche_. Back then, it took Sam a couple days to recover, right? A couple days to...to get over being yelled at, and move forward. But do you remember how you got him to do that?"

Dean shot me a look. "I gotta buy him ice cream and take him fishing, now?"

_Huh_...close enough to what I remember. "In a way, yeah. Mostly, though? Did you listen to what Sam said in return -  _why_ he stopped looking,  _why_ he made the choices he did - and are you gonna let it go?"

Dean spread his arms wide. "I said we were good! I told him it's done! What more am I supposed to say?" He frowned and studied me a second before standing up and snagging a blanket off a nearby chair. Shaking it out, he settled it around my shoulders, pulling it tight across my chest.

Clutching the heavy blanket close, I lifted up a corner. "This right here, Dean, what you just did for me? You didn't  _say_  a word, but your actions spoke volumes. He needs some of that. He needs you to just...be the big brother who can yell and bitch, but at the end of the day? He's gotta know you'll still love and take care of your little brother."

Dean stared at me a moment, before making gagging noises and rolling his eyes. "Are you fucking serious? That's so…Sam doesn't want that." He paused. "Not anymore, and he hasn't for a long time."

"Really?" I drawled. "Tell that to the emo little boy hiding in his bedroom, because he's afraid you'll accuse him of not trying to save  _me_ , like you accused him of not trying to save  _you_."

Dean opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it, clamping his lips together. Nostrils flaring, I could see him searching for something to say that would counter my argument.

He had nothing.

"You have nothing."

"I have... _something_." He dropped into his chair and lolled his head back. "Fuck."

Point, me.

"I need a drink." He went to the liquor cabinet. "Goddammit, we're out." He hung his head, making mock crying noises.

Pushing to my feet, I straightened the blanket, huddling further inside. The second I stood, more coughing put me back on my ass. Luckily this wasn't an all out fit, more like a mini outburst, a mild protest over my attempt to simply move like a normal person. Disgusted, I wanted to scrape the taste of blood off my tongue, out of my mouth. It was everywhere.

Dean's hand was in my hair, smoothing wayward strands. "Let's try something like cranberry juice. Maybe it'll cover the taste."

That, right there, is why I love this man.

I hummed, leaning against him, "And you just did it again."

He sighed, pressing a kiss in my hair. "I'm rusty, Kate. It's been a long time since he's needed me."

"Bullshit, Dean," I argued, my voice muffled by his shirt. "He's always needed you. It's just been a long time since he admitted it."

We sat for a minute, Dean's hand on my back, probably feeling the rattling in my lungs that passed for breathing these days.

"Look, why don't you go get your booze and grab me some juice, and I'll...I'll sort through Sam."

Dean snorted, pulling away, eyes searching my face again. "Sometimes, it's like you were always here," he murmured.

I snorted back. "If I was always here," (See? I remembered!) "You two wouldn't be this fucked up."

"True that," he sighed, heaving me to my feet and setting me in the direction of Sam's room. I took a couple steps, holding the furniture for balance. "Sure you can make it? Need me to hold your hand?"

I waved a goodbye with a finger and headed towards the mess that is Sam.

**xxxxx**

l paused outside Sam's door, admittedly listening first to see if there were any sounds of...I dunno...crying, or...yeah. I dunno.

Shallow breath...and... _here we go_.

I knocked, rocking back on my heels and biting my lip, not sure what I was walking into. I've dealt with pissy, devistated, overwrought,  _moody_ Sam a hundred times over. Each time was an adventure.

"Go away, Dean. I said I was fine."

"Yeah? Well,  _I'm_  about to fall over, so how about letting  _me_  in?" When in doubt, play the injured card.

Sure enough, the door flew open, so fast that I staggered back a step. "Hey...what're you doing? You okay?"

I tilted my head. "Can I come in?"

" _Fuck_...yeah, hold on…" He cleared a spot on the bottom of his bed. I weaved over, ignoring said clear spot and claiming a seat right next to his instead, where I could lean against the wall.

He huffed through his nose, dared to give a tiny eye roll (right, because I'm the asshole, here), and finally sat next to me.

Shoulders touching, I could feel heat coming off him, just like Dean said. He also said  _I've_  been running a fever, but what the hell do I know? I was always cold.

I rested my head on his shoulder. "You're warm," I murmured.

Sighing, he rested his, on mine. "So're you."

I shook my head, coughing a little. "Nope. It's cold in here."

"Yeah...a little."

Riveting conversation, sure, but sometimes Sam needed a minute. He pulled a blanket over our legs, and even with the one still wrapped around my shoulders, I was still cold.

_Sigh_.

I reached over, closing the book that lie open on the bed. "What's going on, Sam?"

True to Sam, he really only needed a minute before it's open season on conversations. "I know he said we were okay, but I just...I don't believe him. He was so… _*sigh*_." And he never needed an introduction.

_I know._ I snuggled closer, eliciting a sigh, and a little burrowing in return.

"Sam…I know it doesn't matter that Dean was cursed. He said some things that…" Sam sniffled, shuffling his feet and crossing his arms. "...that were mean and shitty and just low. I get that. But they're out of his system, and he knows what he did. You have to trust that it's okay, now." Cue the sigh. "Besides, he's right. You  _have_  to slow down. You literally made yourself sick, and you just - "

" _Kate_." I stopped, listening to him breathe, a little more erratic than a minute ago. "Look, putting him aside for a minute," Now  _I_  snorted. "You were  _right_ , okay? You got out of the Pit way too easily, and your Castiel showing up like that? What are the odds? What if...what if something's fucking with us? What if Crowley knows what we're doing? What if Lucifer  _also_  thinks Michael helped you escape and-and breaks free before we close the gate? What if - "

"What if you're too sick to help when we need you most?" I countered softly, shutting him down effectively. I sat up a little, turning his face towards mine. "Sam. Listen to me. Whether or not Michael helped me free Adam doesn't matter. He's Lucifer's problem - not ours. Like I told you, maybe Cas knew I was in danger because of his grace? I dunno. But again -  _it doesn't matter._  He's gone, now, and it's back to being just us."

I poked his nose, earning a wrinkled up face and a grunt.

"Please. Slowing down doesn't mean you're not doing anything."

Sam had that look - the one where he thinks you don't understand what he's thinking (when you really do) and he only needs to find the right words to make you see with SamClarity. Without even thinking about it, because really - if I'd thought about it, I wouldn't have done it - I took this deep breath, ready to lay  _the_ smack down, since my little speech didn't take hold.

That's when another fit began. A bad one, too. Wet and grating, paired with wheezing and a little gagging. It was spectacular. I bled through the few tissues I still held, crumpled in my fist. Sam frantically dove for more, eventually sprinting for a towel, because seriously,  _this was bad_.

A graphic detailing wouldn't add to the image or detract from the severity. Coughing like this happened before, and it'll most likely happen again. I just didn't expect to spray all over Sam's bedspread.

"Shit…" I gasped, choking for air. "Sorry... _fuck…_ " Sam swung my legs onto the floor so I could bend easier. He hunched over next to me, keeping my hair off my face, like I drank too much at a party.

_Goddammit_.

After an eternity, it slowed, then stopped, and I wished like fuck for that cranberry juice, if only to swish it around my mouth.

At the look of disgust on my face, Sam said, "Maybe something like cranberry juice can knock out the taste..."

I choke-laughed, leaning against him, completely spent. His arms went around me, holding tight, making it impossible to mask the tremor skirting through him. Or me. It was hard to distinguish right then.

Without a word, he gathered up the book and papers, setting them on the dresser. After another sigh and a quick pass through his hair with a shaking hand, he maneuvered me back into bed, wriggled in next to me, and turned out the light.

**xxxxx**

"Sam! Kate!"

What the hell? I tried peeling my eyes open, but they weren't working.

"Guys! Need some help, here!"

Oooh, that was motivating. Not being the one with crippling Trial Disease, Sam rolled out of bed, yelling back at Dean and pounding down the hallway. I moved a little slower, and a lot less gracefully. But hey - at least I moved.

I found them in the kitchen, hovering over a nicely beaten, heavily bleeding Castiel. Even Kevin came out of his room to see what was going on. All the blood made him nauseous, so he ducked out as quickly as he came in. I'd been so wrapped up in coughing blood and feeling shitty, that I hadn't really checked in on him. I made a mental note to do that tomorrow.

"Why didn't we think of melting down an angel blade into bullets? That's genius." Dean unfolded a washcloth while Sam sat nearby with tape and bandages.

"Yes, well Crowley is nothing short of - " Cas hissed in pain as Dean dabbed at a cut on his forehead. "- genius. He has angels working for him. That's how they found me."

The medkit lie open on the table, supplies scattered everywhere, mixed with bloody gauze and scraps of fabric cut from Castiel's clothing.  _Christ_ \- how long did it take me to get here?"

"Well, that's just fucking  _awesome_. Maybe next time, stay with us so we can help you."  _Some_ one's still a little touchy about being pummeled in that crypt, despite the follow-up healing.

Sam snorted. "Right, Dean, because we'd be a heap-load of help against the King of Hell, a string of angels, and this Naomi, who seems to be pretty powerful."

Dean shrugged, tossing a grin at our brother. "Don't underestimate us, Sammy. Besides, Bunker's warded, right?"

Sam rolled his eyes and unfolded some gauze, watching Dean examine the gaping hole (oh,  _gross_ ) in Castiel's side.

"Hello, Kate."

I pulled my gaze off his wound, and into those blue eyes. Cas stared, looking despondent, hesitant even.

"Kate! Nice of you to join us," Dean snarked, taking the gauze Sam handed him.

"Shut up. Hey, Cas...what the hell happened?" Willing myself not to cough all over, I cautiously slid into a chair, watching from the opposite end of the table. I wasn't going to be much help, and there were already too many people poking at him.

Cas opened his mouth to explain, but was cut off by Dean. "Naomi and Crowley cocktail," he spat. "Found him lying in the middle of the road."

"Had a sense you were... _nggghh_...nearby…" Cas grunted as Dean poked a bit more.

"You want stitches, or will you be able to heal yourself?"

Cas breathed for a few seconds before answering. "I don't require stitches, but I would appreciate a bandage. I will heal, it'll just take a little longer than usual."

Sam didn't look so sure about that. "I dunno, Cas, that hole is kinda...uh...big."

Cas nodded in agreement, grimacing again as Dean pressed some gauze to the wound. "It's large enough to stick your hand inside."

We all froze at that. Cas kept wincing, unaware that we were all now envisioning someone shoving their hands literally inside Castiel, Angel of the Lord.

Dean just blinked, unable to even voice a joke.

"I will heal, Dean. Don't worry."

Dean sighed, eyes filled with worry over the third family member to be struck down. "Yeah, okay. But if you don't for some reason, you have to say something, understand?"

"Yes, Dean," Cas sighed in return, leaning back and letting Dean finish wrapping his side.

With nothing left to do but sit still, Cas resumed his non-blinking eyeball examination of me. After a few seconds, I couldn't stand the scrutiny anymore.

"What is it, Cas?" I snapped, irritated because I  _knew_  was coming out of his mouth next.

He frowned a little, followed by another sigh. "You're worse," he murmured, not even flinching when Dean jumped at his words, taping the center of the gauze patch instead of the edge.

My annoyance drained away, replaced by a heavy acceptance. It wasn't really a matter of just being worse - that part was obvious. It was more the undercurrent of the message, that when an angel tells you you're worse, you're not just worse, you're  _screwed_.

My eyes flickered to Sam, who I  _just_  talked off the ledge. They cut to Dean, who recovered quickly and had just finished correctly taping the bandage in place.

"I know," was all I whispered.

Silence hung thick in the room. Sam busied himself by cleaning up the table. Dean washed his hands, leaning heavily against the sink when finished, his back to us. Cas simply sat there, brow knitted together, contemplating  _who the fuck_  knows, seemingly oblivious to the emotional bomb he just dropped.

Unable to stand the morbidity any longer, I slapped my thighs and demanded, "So, does this mean you didn't get the juice, or…?"

Dean's shoulders shook with laughter. He glanced over his shoulder. "It's in the car. I'll get it."

He turned, pausing a second before stepping to Sam, who was apparently busy reading the tiny print on a tube of antibacterial cream. Dean swiped a hand across his forehead, both of them surprised when Sam's eyes closed briefly, his shoulders visibly relaxing. Encouraged, Dean rested the back of his hand on Sam's cheek and neck. Nodding to himself, he gently ruffled Sam's hair. "Be right back."

A little embarrassed, as evidenced by the blush on his cheeks, Sam cleared his throat and shuffled his ass on the chair. "So, uh, Cas, what's Naomi's plan? Why's she so interested in you, besides you running off with the angel tablet?"

Cas shrugged uncomfortably. "She seeks to control me, because she feels I've been…" His eyes cut to the doorway, where Dean stood seconds ago. "...compromised." He sighed. "I believe she is also interested in shutting the gates of Hell, but she wanted the tablet more than anything."

"And now Crowley has it?" I asked, reaching for the blanket I swore was around my shoulders, only to come away empty handed.  _Dammit_.

Cas nodded, regret etched on his features. Sam stowed the kit on the counter and tucked his hair behind an ear, not missing the groping for imagined blankets. "Let's move to the library, where it's more comfortable. Cas, I'll get you something clean to wear."

**xxxxx**

"And that's what happened," I finished, flourishing my hands in the air like an aerial  _Ta-daaaa_. Still cold, despite the blankets heaped around me, I sipped my cranberry juice (it worked, yay!) and waited for Castiel's take on my new book,  _Adventures With Lucifer._

The angel was propped in a large armchair, now dressed in sweats and a long sleeved shirt, making him look very un-Cas. He kept a hand pressed to his side, and winced every now and then, but otherwise seemed okay. Cas tried to refuse the pain pills Dean forced on him, but Dean wouldn't hear it.

" _I don't need them, Dean."_

_The pills jiggled on Dean's palm when he shook them. "Just take 'em, Cas. It'll make me feel better."_

Sam was also force-fed Tylenol and that chicken stew thing. He took it all, without comment, accepting Dean's actions more than his words, and the grittiness of their relationship seemed to smooth out a bit.

Dean was on his third glass of whiskey, and seemed to relish every single one. He had now three family members down, and definitely needed a drink to steady his hands.

"So...what do you think, Cas? Could Michael have actually helped Kate?"

Good Sam, start simple.

Cas shrugged, his face pinched with pain at the movement. "That's hard to say. I've never actually interacted with him. He was an archangel that just...kept to himself. Our mission is to protect. Lucifer is clearly at odds with that. Michael has reason to be...wary...of Winchesters, and he'd been in the Cage a while."

Dean's face scrunched up. Mouth on the rim of his glass, he said, "You gonna say more than making a list of shit we already know, Cas?"

Castiel's lips flattened.  _You want blunt? Here's blunt._  "The trials are nearly impossible to complete, obviously. Yet they were still designed to  _be_  completed, should the need arise. The second trial required going to  _Hell_ , not to Lucifer." His eyes seemed to bore right through me. "While I admire your family's ability to do the impossible, I am completely shocked that you made it out alive. An intervention, or two, was absolutely required for your success."

_Oh_. Well, there you go.

Cas shook his head a little, now staring at Dean. "God wanted these trials to be monumental for a reason. Entering the Cage went beyond that. So while I cannot say exactly whether or not Michael assisted in the escape, I don't see how she would have made it out if he didn't."

A pipe rattled somewhere in the Bunker. Dean swallowed the rest of his drink, setting the glass on the table, reaching for the bottle. Sam nudged his glass closer, eyes begging for a refill.

I tried to ignore the stuttering of my heart. "Oooo-kay, well, that answers that, huh, guys?" Cheerfulness was positively  _dripping_  from my mouth.

But he wasn't finished. "As far as the other Castiel entering Hell and bringing you to Charon...it is not outside the realm of possibility, however I can assure you that entering Hell as an angel is extremely dangerous. It weakens us, making us vulnerable until our grace can recover from such a trip." He bit his lip, eyes staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. "Not to mention the burned feathers." Shaking himself a little, he continued. "Entering Hell in another dimension or reality has the same chances of success as you leaving an encounter with Lucifer alive. It would require a lot of grace," He paused, tilting his head. "And I detect  _additional_  grace inside you, now, most likely helping to keep you alive."

That stopped me. I sat up, holding out a hand. "Wait a second...there's... _more_  grace in me?" He nodded. "So…"

My wheels spun sluggishly, not as much trying to understand the implications, but desperate to find an alternative explanation for them. Because if I'm grasping this right...

"I'm sorry, Kate. There's no way for me to tell if he survived."

_Right…_

Quietly,  _slowly_ , I let out a breath. Swallowed. Wet my lips and ran a hand through my hair. I was very aware of my brothers watching me, not sure what to do, not sure how I'll react.

I realized I never told them that Cas and I were...well. I could feel the heaviness in my gut, my heart fluttering, the pressure building behind my eyes as a flood of tears geared up to spill down my face.

Forcing a calm exterior, I carefully stood, pulling the blanket close. My mouth opened, and I tried to tell them I was gonna go lie down, but they stuck in my throat. If Cas was dead, no one was protecting my family. If Cas was dead, it was because of me. If Cas was dead…

I bit my lip, and left the room, brushing past Kevin and into the hallway.

He was practically hyperventilating behind me. "Guys! I did it - I figured out the third trial!"

My fingertips skimmed against the wall as I continued walking.

"Kate? Hey - don't you wanna know what it is?"

A small laugh burst out of me, because right then? I really didn't care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay on this one. I had a much harder time writing it than anticipated.


	27. Chapter 27

There are good days, and there are... _not_  so good days. If Dean checks his mental tally marks, he knows there are more good days than bad ones.

He really does know this.

But when a bad day strikes, it tends to drown out all the good ones leading up to it. That's just the way it is.

Today happens to be a bad day, their first in a while, so it takes Dean a few minutes to adjust.

"H-h-how m-m-much longer?"

He swallows hard, checks his watch. "Two more minutes, kiddo."

Kate's head bobs with understanding, her shivers sloshing water out of the tub and onto his bare feet. She's lucid now, which is a plus.

"Hey, hey D-D-Dean, uh, don't...don't tell Sam, 'kay? He'll...he'll worry and he has a, um, test. He has a t-test, in...s-something. 'Kay?"

_Mostly_  lucid. He'll take it. Better than the crying she did earlier over her Cas.

He swipes water off her forehead, biting the inside of his lip so he keeps it together. "Don't worry - I won't tell him."

"P-p-promise?" She's staring at him, eyes wide and trusting, ready to accept whatever comes out of his mouth. Sam hasn't looked at him like that in... _shit_ , almost twenty years. The sight makes his breath stutter.

"Promise. I swear on the Impala."

She nods again, all serious, spitting water out of her mouth and watching her shirt balloon to the water's surface. He loves that she understands the gravity of swearing on the Impala. Would've laughed about, it if he wasn't currently trying to keep her from having brain damage. Dean drags a hand down his face and checks his watch. Close enough. He's can't watch her like this anymore.

"Okay, lemme get your number."

Nodding, Kate grips the sides of the tub as she sits, hair trailing down her back, wet and heavy. She wraps her arms around herself, trying to get warm, even though that contradicts the whole point of being in the tub. Dean sets the thermometer inside her ear, waits for all the beeps, then checks.

Relief washes over him, so Dean flashes her a smile. "Better. Let's get you out of here."

"Okay," she says, completely compliant.

This is what Dean's life has become over the last few weeks.

Babysitting. Caretaking.

It sounds worse than it is, and Dean doesn't think on it negatively at all. That's just what it is.

It's been a mad search for any information on how to cure a demon. They're digging deep into the archives to see if the Men of Letters have hidden knowledge that will help.

Dean  _really_  misses Bobby and his ability to find everything on anything.

Since research is key to their success, it was obvious that Sam and Kevin should take the lead. Dean's become a lot better about digging for information, even enjoys it for the non-violent hunt that it is. But someone has to take care of their sister, and a job like that? Well, it's a Dean Winchester exclusive position.

On good days, she helps. She moves through files like a champ, huddled in a blanket or three, coughing like her lungs are gonna appear in her hand. On bad days...he makes sure she lives to see another  _good_  day.

Simple as that.

He helps her out of the tub, water dripping everywhere, her shorts and t-shirt hanging limply on her too-thin frame. She's shaking so much it's hard for Dean to get a hold of her, but he manages, because he's Dean, and she needs him.

The brand new towel sheet he bought is thick and warm, soaking up the water in no time. She clutches it, desperate to dry off. Her eyes are still glassy, but they're better, and she knows who Dean is, so it's good. It's all good.

Kate smiles up at him. "I can get it from here...it's okay."

Dean hesitates, not wanting to deal with the clothing issue either, but really not wanting to leave her.

"Wait outside, door open a little, 'kay?" Yeah, okay, she's good. When she tries to make things better for  _him_  on a bad day, he knows she's  _here_.

"Yeah, okay. But if you - "

"I know."

"Yeah."

He steps outside, leaving the door open a crack, and leans against the wall. Waiting. Listening. Worrying.

It's gone unspoken ever since Cas told them the extra grace pumped in her was keeping her going - the question of whether she'll survive the trials. She's lost something, though, like a piece of her broke off when she realized her family back home may not be safe anymore. She can't do anything about it, and one day she just accepted that, latching on to Dean and Sam with a ferocity that confirms she's definitely a Winchester.

Dean never expected to latch back just as firmly, and he suspects Sam feels the same. The thought of losing her as a result of shutting down Hell makes the whole thing not worth it, but there's no turning back, now. For the millionth time, he curses the angels for setting her on the path that should've been his. He'd trade places in a heartbeat. Worse yet, there will be no deals to be made when the demons are locked in Hell. So if she dies...she's really gone.

He can't even believe he thought that.

"All done."

He pushes off the wall as she opens the door, hands out in case she needs him.

" _Whoo_  - I feel awesome." He huffs a laugh, instantly recognizing another attempt to settle him. It bothers him that he needs it.

"You  _look_  awesome."

"Damn right, I do. Pale skin, bloody lips, lifeless rack - I'm the full package, baby."

She has Bobby's sense of humor. It's warming and sad all at the same time, but Dean likes it. It fits her, like she fits them. They walk slowly, steadily, towards her room. Kate's clearly exhausted, her head resting on Dean as they move.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I know where we are. I know...I know Sam's not at school, okay?"

He kisses the top of her head, squeezing her to him, not sure what to say or how to say it. Kate thumps his chest. "I'm good. Promise. Like, swear on the Impala, promise."

Dean chuckles, "Yeah, okay."

They reach her room, and Kate sighs as she sits on her bed. "Jesus, I'm tired."

_You should be tired - your brain almost boiled._  Dean helps her lie down, covering her with a bedsheet. "Get some rest. I'll check on you soon. If you start to feel bad - "

"I'll call," she finishes, nodding at her cell phone that sat quietly on her nightstand.

Dean's about to leave, when he notices her fidgeting with the sheet. He sits next to her, elbows on knees. "What's up?"

"I'm sor -"

Dean shook his head. "What's the rule, Kate?"

She huffs, rolling her eyes at the ceiling.

"I'm serious. No apologizing. Not now, not ever. Not for this. I'll be back in half an hour to make sure your temp's staying down, okay?" He cups her cheek, and gives her a wink.

She nods, eyes already fluttering closed. "Okay."

Dean walks to the door, a hand already in his hair, his entire being itching for a drink.

"Love you," she whispers.

His heart skips. Hand on the doorknob, he twists it back and forth a couple times before answering. "Love you, too."

**xxxxx**

Dean goes straight to the library where Sam and Kevin are poring over files, books, reports, anything and everything on demons, the scribe of God, the tablets. The list of useful information is woeful compared to the list of shit they  _don't_  need to know and the list of shit they  _already_  know. Cas is out scouting for a book that  _may_  contain  _helpful_  shit, but the book's buried somewhere in Eastern Europe, so it's taking him a while to nab it.

The second he enters the room, Sam perks up, asking, "She okay? Why're you wet? Where are your shoes?"

Dean frowns, looking down and remembering the bathtub water.  _Shit_  - he should've changed. Dean hesitates all of a second before purposefully walking to the decanter of Scotch in the cabinet, stalling for a minute.

The last thing they need is for Sam to be distracted from research. They all know Sam's worrying anyway, but he knows Dean's taking care of her, so the worry doesn't have to be all-consuming.

That's the theory, anyway.

Dean decides to spare Sam the details of today, because he's still a mess over it and doesn't feel like revisiting his utter panic when her forehead burned him. He settles for grumbling. "Want my favorite color, too?" He produces an audible,  _Yessss_  as the liquid hits the glass, drinking it faster than he should've, so he pours himself a second, this one to savor.

Sam chews on his lip, and Dean knows he's searching for a reason to go check on her.

Still drinking, Dean waves a hand at Sam, telling him to calm the fuck down (because, you know, he's so calm himself). Second glass down, he sucks in a breath to cool down his mouth, pouring a third. "She's sleepin', Sam. Let her be." Dean drops into a chair, fully aware of Sam's assessing gaze, taking in the drinking, the trembling hands, the discomfort Dean can't quite mask anymore.

He sets down his glass and rubs his eyes. He's exhausted, but figured he should check in with the Hardy Boys and see what's new. Mid-rub, he notices all sorts of crap on the table. "What's this?"

Sam's eyes narrow. "Don't change the subject."

Dean radiates innocence. "Didn't know we had a subject to begin with. Now what's with all this shit on my table?"

Sam huffs, shooting a glare Dean's way.  _Fine - I'll drop it, but you're filling me in later._

Dean raises an eyebrow.  _Soooo….?_

"I hate to break up this wordless conversation, but we found something." Kevin's voice startles them both, and Dean turns his attention to the weary prophet.

"So I'll ask again - what's all this stuff?"

Tossing a pen on the table, Sam stretches. "Kevin found a weird file for Case number 1138, which seems to be a Class Five Infernal Event."

Dean frowns. "What the fuck is a Class Five Infernal Event?"

Kevin shook his head. "No idea. But the file is marked as being weird, and - "

Dean hold up a hand. "Wait. I'm sorry, the Men of Letters marked something as being weird?"

Sam and Kevin both nod.

"Huh. Okay, continue."

"Anyway, there's only one paper in the file. It says that all the evidence for the case is in Room Seven B, which is somewhere in the Bunker. The case had something to do with demons in St. Louis, in 1957. That's all we know."

"Okay, did you go look?"

Sam nodded at him. "Thought you'd wanna come with, since we're scoping out a new room in the basement."

Dean drains his glass, thankful that the contents helped steady him. "Well then, let's go."

They wander the hallways in the basement, each of them in a different direction. It's not long before Sam's calling out that he found it. From the hallway, it's just another nondescript room.

That happens to be locked.

It takes Sam a few seconds to pick it, and they're inside. Cobwebs cling to the corners and are draped all over the shelves of file boxes neatly arranged in rows. Dust covers every surface, and for a few seconds, the air is unbreathable. Sam sneezes twice, while Kevin ducks out of the room until the stale air mixes a bit with the somewhat fresh air from the hallway.

Dean coughs, groping for a light switch. The hanging bulb flickers to life, casting shadows on the floor and walls. Sam's nose wrinkles as he wipes it on his sleeve, Kevin peering into the room around Sam's frame.

Sighing, Dean scratches his head. "Alrighty - split up and find the box with Case 1138 so we can finally learn what a Class Five Internal Event is. "

"In _fer_ nal," Sam corrects.

" _Whatever_."

The singular light isn't enough to help them read the faded labels on boxes stacked beyond it's feeble glow. Sam pulls a flashlight from his pocket and searches row after row in the back of the room. Kevin stays within the bulb's range, silently mouthing words and numbers as he reads.

Dean wanders to the far side, curious markings on the floor catching his eye. Frowning, he bends down to examine a thick, curved line, seemingly part of a circle, the ends disappearing underneath the shelving. Why would shelves be placed on top of a painted design?

He looks closer, noting that the boxes on these shelves are empty, stuck to the shelves themselves, like props. And there's his answer.

"I found it," Sam calls, and Dean hears Kevin shuffle over. They're talking, but Dean's focus is on the shelving in front of him. He takes hold of the wire frames and pulls, surprised when two sets of shelving easily roll towards him, then apart, almost like rolling French doors.

He pauses, wondering how he even knows what French doors,  _are_.

Sam walks over, waving a weathered, yellow envelope. "I got the...what the fuck?"

Dean shines his light and whistles. "Well, lookit this."

The shelves were definitely a front, hiding an entire room behind their rows of boxes. An enormous Devil's Trap covers half the floor, a metal plate with chains and cuffs bolted in the center. The walls are dotted with several sets of cuffs and chains, all etched with spells and symbols.

"Whoa…" Kevin breathes, carefully stepping inside, spinning in circles and taking it all in.

For the first time in weeks, Dean's face breaks into a huge grin. He smacks Sam on the chest. "Dude - we have a dungeon!"

Sam gapes at him.

"What? Chicks dig this shit." Dean waggles his eyebrows, enjoying the discomfort on Sam's face. He points at the envelope. "What's in there?"

Sam digs inside, and pulls out an old movie reel. The three share a look.

"I'll make popcorn," Kevin says, walking past the brothers.

Sam squints at the label. "It just says 'Case 1138' on it."

"Well, that clears it all up." Dean gives the room one last appreciative look. "This may be my second favorite room in this place."

Sam rolls his eyes and follows Kevin out. "Come on, let's see what's on this film."

They turn off the light, shut the door, and head back upstairs. They make it halfway down the hall, Dean distracted by the possibilities surrounding a freaking dungeon in their home, when Sam starts the questions again.

"Sooo...how's Kate doing, really?"

Dean sighs, stopping at the bottom of the stairs, one hand on the railing, the other massaging his forehead. He can't keep dodging him, not with this.

Sam tucks the film reel back in its envelope, his head shaking. "Stop keeping this from me.  _Please_. I haven't seen her all day, and when that happens, I just...I know it's not good."

Dean caves, and he didn't even look into Sam's Eyes. "She's bad, Sammy, okay? That second trial really knocked her on her ass. Today was...it was just a bad day."

Sam sags against the wall, worry and sympathy on his face. "Dean...why didn't you come get me?" He hold up a hand before Dean's speech can begin. "I  _am_  focused on research, okay? But I...I need to know these things. And you shouldn't carry this alone, man."

Dean nods, his hand gripping the railing  _tight_. The last thing he wants, is for  _Sam_  to go through what  _he's_  been going through. But on the other hand...he already is, no matter what Dean tries to tell himself. He looks up at him, taking in the signs of big brother worry that he sees reflected in the mirror every day. He forgets that while Sam's still his little brother, he's Kate's big brother.

"I'm sharin' now, ain't I? Look, I'll clue you in next time, okay? You were just balls deep in papers, man, and I - "

"I get it Dean - I do. I'm not mad or anything. I just wanna help. Kevin and Cas can handle this for a few hours so I can sit with her and you can get a break."

Like Dean will take a break.

He nods anyway, willing to give this to Sam. "C'mon...let's go watch that movie."

**xxxxx**

The end of the film makes an odd  _flick flick flick_  noise as it flaps against the projector. The reel keeps spinning, unaware that the show has ended.

They sit there, a bowl of popcorn on the table between them, staring at the makeshift screen made out of a bedsheet.

"What the hell was that?" Sam asks, eyes frozen on the screen.

Kevin's knees are pulled to his chest, his eyes wide. "That was one old lady who blew up in your dungeon over fifty years ago."

Cas frowns. "You have a dungeon?" He arrived, empty handed, but at least in time to help haul the ancient projector out of a closet.

"That exorcism - it's all different! They...they changed the words!" Sam exclaims, excitement washing over his face.

"Only you'd get geeky about demon grammar." Dean smirks as Sam reaches over and shuts off the projector, the flicking noises slowing to a stop. "So let me get this straight - that priest was doing some sort of weird exorcism on that demon, and at the end, the demon just exploded out of her chest?"

Sam examines the film reel, now in his hands. "That exorcism wasn't like anything I've ever heard of or read before." He looks up. "Cas? You ever see something like that?"

Cas shakes his head, thoughtfully chewing on popcorn. "No - that was new to me."

Kevin clicks on his laptop. "So, that priest - Father Thompson - he's dead."

"That figures," Dean snorts, shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth.

"Yeah, but but the other one? Father Simon? He's still alive, working and living at a church in St. Louis." Kevin swivels his laptop towards Dean and Sam.

Dean makes a face crossed between disgust and uncertainty. "Is this really worth a trip right now? Some dude offs a possessed old lady and we're running eight hours to hear the tale?"

Sam sets down the film, perching at the edge of his chair. "Dean - we've got files and files of possession cases, dating all the way back to Ichabod Crane! But  _this_...this is different! A new exorcism? A different ritual? This could be it! This could be the break we need!"

"What's the break we need?"

Everyone spun around as Kate walked into the room, shrouded in one of Sam's old hoodies, looking a lot better than earlier. Cas rises before anyone else, helping her to a chair. She smiles at him before grunting as she sits. Looking them, she raises an eyebrow. "Hello?"

Dean recovers first. "What're you doing up?" He's searching her face for signs of anything negative - including a pimple.

"Is this answer a question with a question day?"

His eyes widen at her sass, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small smile. If she's sassy, she's doing better. "I dunno, is it?"

"Oh for Christ's sake, you two," Sam mutters. He turns to Kate. "We have a lead - a priest back in 1957 started working on a new kind of exorcism, and his work was filmed by the Men of Letters. He's dead now - "

She snorts. "That figures."

Dean nods at her.  _Right?_

" - but the younger guy he worked with is still alive, in St. Louis."

Her brows knit together, and her eyes stare at the ceiling as she thinks. "So...a weird sort of demon curing?"

Sam shrugs, "Maybe? We're not sure, but I think we should -"

Dean cuts him off. "Sam and I are going to check it out."

Kate tilts her head, watching Sam open and shut his mouth like a fish, clearly uncomfortable. "I'm pretty sure you meant  _we_  are going to check it out,  _together_." She twirls her finger around, pointing at all three Winchesters.

Dean barks a laugh, gesturing between him and Sam. "No, I'm pretty sure I meant Sam and I are going to check it out. We're leaving in the morning. You're staying here, getting your strength back and not getting dumped in bathtubs filled with cold water." Dean doesn't mean for it to sound as shitty as it does, but his nerves are rattled, and as nonchalant as he tried to act, today scared the shit out of him.

Lips pursed and nostrils flaring, Kate's eyes narrow. Dean sees the struggle on her face - trying not to take what he said personally because she  _knows_  she's sick, but she's also feeling like the weak link, here, embarrassed that he doesn't want her participating in this.

She swallows, tugging on the sleeves of her sweatshirt until they covered her hands, trying not to cry in front of them. Dean instantly regrets his words, leaning forward, mouth open, ready to take it all back.

But before he can do that, she's on her feet, walking away.

**xxxxx**

The trip was fruitful, the brothers returning home with all of Father Thompson's work stashed in the trunk. In one box. It took a few rounds with Sam's Eyes for the priest to open up and turn it over, but Dean knows - you can't resist Sam when he decides he wants something.

The whole drive back, Dean dreaded facing his sister. The hurt look on her face haunted him the entire trip, his texts answered with curt one or two word replies. In the end, he employed Sam to communicate with her and find out how she was really doing.

"What'd you expect, Dean? You cut her out without giving her a chance."

Dean adjusts his grip on the steering wheel, his defenses surging to the surface even though he knows Sam's right. "She shouldn't be traveling, Sam. What if she spiked another fever while we're holed up in some shitty motel, huh? Or coughed up a lung while we're talking with the priest?"

Sam doesn't miss a beat. "What if that happened while we were away, and the only people taking care of her were Cas and Kevin?"

Dean's mouth opens, then clamps shut.  _Fuck_ , Sammy.

"Look - I know why you did it, okay? You...you get in that big brother mode, man, and you just...there's no stopping you. But you gotta consider how it affects her."

Dean glances sideways. "Just her?"

Now  _Sam_  pleads innocence by widening his eyes and splaying his hands in front of him. "We're not talking about anyone else, Dean."

_Of course, we're not._  Dean rolls his eyes and refocuses on the road. He admits to himself that he only thought about her being in trouble if she came along. It honestly didn't occur to him that it could be worse if she stayed. Sam stays quiet, knowing full well that Dean needs a minute to process everything.

Eventually, Dean slumps a little, elbow against the door, hand on his head. "How bad did I screw this up?"

Sam shakes his head. "You didn't screw up anything. We know how you are, and why you do what you do."

"We? Thought we weren't talking about anyone else."

"Shut up. My point is, her feelings were hurt, but she's not angry."

There was a time when Dean was perfectly okay with Sam being angry over Dean's protective nature. Dean always knew best, and that line of thinking worked.

Well. It worked when Sam was a kid.

Dean pulls on his chin, and sighs.

Sam awkwardly pats him on the shoulder. "It'll be fine. Just talk to her."

Dean snorts, because  _sure_  - talking is such a strength for him.

They pull into the Bunker, dread heavy in Dean's gut. He kills the engine and sits a bit, watching the keys jangle back and forth from the ignition.

Sam doesn't say a word, instead quietly getting out and grabbing their stuff from the trunk. With a sigh, Dean follows.

They descend the stairs and dump everything on the table, both of them locked on finding their sister and making sure she's okay.

Her bedroom door's open, the gravelly baritone of Castiel floating down the hallway, punctuated by Kate's tired rasp.

"So...where d'you think I'll go when I die? This heaven, or mine?"

That stops both brothers in their tracks, pausing outside her door, blatantly eavesdropping, because there's  _no way_  they're missing this.

Cas sighs, and her bed creaks. "I wish I had the answer to that. If you could choose, which would you want?"

It's silent, but Dean's afraid the hammering in his chest is audible to everyone.

"I...I dunno, Cas. I really...I don't. Choosing one feels like I'm betraying the other, you know? I already feel shitty because I don't...I don't feel like I miss them anymore. What does that say about me?" Her voice breaks, and Dean takes a step towards her room. Sam pulls him back, shaking his head.

_Hold on..._

"I don't think it says anything negative about you, Kate. You love your family,  _all_  of them. Maybe instead of keeping the two separate, you should consider them as one, then no matter where you are, they're always with you."

"Yeah. I'd rather just...end up somewhere and then deal."

"Do you think you're going to die?"

Kate makes a derisive noise. "I don't see how I'm going to live past this. You can't heal me, there's no medicine to fix it, and come on - God set up these trials so the person completing them can just walk away from it free and clear? No sacrifice?" She scoffs. "I don't think, so. I just - "

To Dean's surprise, Sam lets go of Dean's arm, his face full of anguish and regret. He calls out, "Hey - anyone home?" Flashing Dean a look, he steps into the room, a now forced smile on his face.

Dean frowns, trying to figure out what made Sam react like that. It takes two steps before he figures it out.

The Apocalypse. Sam making the ultimate sacrifice, diving in that gaping hole with Michael and Lucifer, willingly making that decision, knowing exactly what it meant. Dean's nauseous just thinking of it again, and actually has to swallow vigorously to avoid throwing up on the floor.

"How're you doing?" Cas stands, moving out of the way so Sam can sit next to her, smoothing her hair and cupping her cheek.

Her eyes narrow, sensing the false cheerfulness, but clearly glad to see him. She sits up, coughing a little. "Good!" She can be fake happy, too. "How was the trip?"

She turns to Dean, offering a smile. Their eyes lock. He bites his lip. Her head tilts a smidge, and she  _knows_. She knows how he's feeling, and she's already calculating how to fix it.

Dean lasted hours without Sam after Cold Oak. He barely existed for a year after Sam jumped in The Pit, and that was with Lisa and Bobby's help. There's so much guilt when he thinks,  _At least I'll have Sam_. There's a lot of guilt when he thinks,  _I want her here if she dies_. There's an incalculable amount of guilt because he knows,  _he can't save her_.

His throat closes, and he chokes out. "I'm starving. Gonna...gonna go order some pizza." He's out of there before the first tear falls, wiping it away impatiently as he stomps down the hall.

Cas is waiting for him in the kitchen, momentarily startling him. He impassively watches Dean open and slam drawers, searching for the pile of menus they've collected. Castiel's stoic expression rattles Dean even more, and considering he's still pissed about the angel tablet heist, that's saying something.

He slams the last drawer in frustration, catching sight of the sought after menu stuck to the fridge with a magnet bearing the restaurant's name. "What is it, Cas?" He growls, snatching the menu and ripping it open with a huff.

Cas tilts his head, the way Cas does, sighing. He leans against the counter, one hand pressed lightly to his side. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay, especially since you overheard my conversation with Kate."

Dean's eyes are roaming over the pizza possibilities, pointedly not on Cas. "Dunno what you're talking about. I'm just tryin' to order dinner."

Cas straightens with a wince. "Dean...I know you heard her question about heaven. It's okay to be - "

Dean slams the menu down, turning on the angel. "Don't tell me what's okay. You ran away because you didn't trust me.  _Me_. Don't think you can just stand there and...and lecture me on how I'm supposed to feel or what I'm supposed to think."

Cas sighs again. "That's not what I'm doing, Dean."

"Then what  _are_  you doing, Cas? Why're you here?"

Dean knows that one went a little too far, but he's too upset to stop the flow of emotions. Lashing at the angel is easier than throwing things across the War Room.

"I'm here, because you were right. You're family, and right now, you need me."

Dean's breaths are ragged and actually getting a little painful. " _I don't need_  - " A jolt shoots up his arm and into his chest. He staggers back a step, and Cas is there - fingertips on his temple, a cool rush flowing through him. His airways open a bit, and the next thing he knows, he's sitting in a chair breathing heavily and wiping sweat off his forehead.

Cas crouches in front of him, and Dean swears he sees the angel in there, beyond the vessel. It's a little unnerving. " _You do need_ , Dean. And if I've learned anything recently, it's that I need, too. There is a very good chance Kate won't survive these trials. She's made peace with that. It's time you did as well. But to do that, you  _need_  all of us. When I left you in the crypt, it wasn't because I didn't trust you. I didn't -  _don't_  - trust  _Heaven_. Naomi tried to...distance...me from you, and I needed some time to...adjust...to not being under her control."

"What does that mean?" Dean's still trying to catch his breath, still irritated, but he feels a spark of anger at someone trying to drive a wedge between him and his family.

Cas lightly touches Dean's wrist, and once again, a cooling sensation floods him, calming his nerves instantly. "It means that human-angel relationships are complicated, especially when the human is a Winchester." He smiles, a little ruefully, and Dean sighs with understanding.

Nodding a thanks, Dean sits up, running a hand through his hair.

Cas stands stiffly, retrieving the menu that fell to the floor. "So. I hear that pears are excellent on pizza…"


	28. Chapter 28

I had good days, and sometimes, not so good days. Not so good days were really fuzzy, but I saw the impact they made on both Sam and Dean when I got my shit back together. It was lovely.

When Dean abruptly left the room, Cas fluttering away after him, I raised an eyebrow at Sam.

He rubbed an eye with the heel of his hand, looking all of twelve. I watched his Adam's apple bob a bit, until I couldn't stand his discomfort, brushing the hair off his face with a small laugh. "It's okay, Sam. Soooo, tell me. What'd you find out in St. Louis?" I figured changing the subject would encourage GeekySam to emerge, rattling off bits and pieces of what they learned.

I'd deal with Dean later.

Sam rubbed his hands on his thighs. He took a breath, and I knew my tactic worked. "Well, it took a little persuading, but Father Simon turned over all of Father Thompson's work. He was understandably freaked out - he couldn't handle the fact that hosts may die as result of the exorcism. We didn't look at anything yet - figured we'd wait until we got back here with you."

He looked at me, shrugging a shoulder. "Thanks," I whispered, smiling at him. I stared at my blanket. "How's he doing?" I figured Sam knew what I meant, and what I was really asking.

I wasn't disappointed. He huffed a little, shifting until his elbows rested on his knees, eyes on the floor. "Tense. Strung out." He turned toward me. "Worried."

I nodded. "And you?"

The corner of his mouth lifted. "Tense. Strung out. Worried."

I sighed. "Yeah. Me, too."

**xxxxx**

I'm not sure why the fuck Cas would want pears on a pizza, but he somehow managed it, and ate every slice with gusto and wonder. Dean plucked a piece of pepperoni from _his_ slice, and shoved it in his mouth, followed by an impossibly large bite. He ordered me mac and cheese, and since today was a good day, I actually ate some of it.

It occurred to me that perhaps he felt shitty over leaving me behind. That's probably because I stomped out of the room like a baby when he told me.

Hooray for bad days.

Kevin wiped his hands on a napkin and gestured at the box marked _Father Thompson_. "So...what's in the box?"

Dean snickered at the movie reference, nodding at Sam to handle the talking. While Sam prattled on about visiting the priest, I studied Dean, taking in his slightly pale skin and sunken eyes. I wasn't the only one affected physically by the trials, and I fought a wave of guilt over how upset Dean was getting, compounding the guilt for my silent tantrum a couple days before.

_Do not feel guilt. He loves you. Feel blessed, instead._

Imperceptibly, I flickered my gaze at Cas, who barely paused between bites. He was right (oh, _fuck_ him - he didn't have to look smug about it), but I still felt bad.

Sam opened the box and pulled out a couple reels, that turned out to be audio tapes. He played the first one, settling in his seat, and we all listened closely.

For almost an hour.

As the second tape wound to a close, we all stared at each other.

Kevin swallowed hard. "Did he just...just cure that demon?"

Sam nodded back. "I...I think he did." He flipped through some papers filed in the box with the tapes. "So...he injected his own purified blood into the demon host, one dose per hour for nine hours. Then he sliced his hand, covered the demon's mouth, chanted a spell and bam - cured."

"Hold on," Dean set down his beer and held up one finger. "First off, how much blood are we talking about, here?" Two fingers. "Second, how do you purify it?" Three fingers. "Third, so the demon's cured...it's still inside the host, and the host was taken over against his will. So what happens then?"

I shrugged with my eyebrows at Sam. Those were good questions, and I wondered how many answers were in the file.

Sam read fast, holding up one piece of paper with a slightly triumphant look. "Okay, so doses are spells are all listed here, very exact, by the way. Uh, looks like he purified his blood by... _huh_. Going to confession."

"Confession?" I asked, my voice practically squeaking. I'd have to do some thinking on that one. I hadn't _done_ anything. My whole life was actually kind of boring and uneventful. Well, okay, taking out the curses and hunting and kidnapping. But it's not like I did something to cause it. Kate Winchester was a classic wallflower. Other than giving Dean that unwanted haircut back in the fourth grade, I didn't have much to work with.

Sam glanced at me, an eyebrow raised. "That's the part that bothers you?"

"No! I just...my life is pretty boring."

_Everyone's_ eyebrows raised.

_Jesus_. "I mean...outside the hunting stuff. I'm not an exciting person."

Dean set down his pizza, eyes still on me. "You're saying that you can't find something to confess?"

My face could not get any redder. " _No_ \- I have... _things_. I just don't know if they're enough."

Cas looked like he was about to spill something, so I nipped that shit in the bud. I pointed at him. "If you think you know something, you will shut the fuck up, right the fuck now and...you will...do that." He sat back, properly scolded for something he didn't do, looking properly confused.

Yeah. That was awesome.

Dean smirked. "Come _on_. There has to be _some_ thing."

Sam threw a napkin at him. "Lay off, man. She'll figure it out."

Dean shot Sam a sidelong glance. "You tellin' me you don't wanna know?"

Oh, I lied - my face _could_ get redder. And redder _still_ at how guilty Sam looked.

"Exactly."

"I'll figure it out, okay?" At this point, I was definitely defensive. I was a Winchester, and had nothing bawdy or catastrophic to confess. Was it weird to have that be disgraceful?

Dean cleared the dishes and chuckled his way out of the room. "I cannot _wait_ to hear what you've done over the years when I wasn't looking."

_Uh…_

Sam and I exchanged a look. Did he really just say that?

Kevin was watching us, head shaking back and forth. "You're all batshit crazy, you know that?"

"Actually," Cas began, swiveling in his chair to confront the prophet. "Technically speaking, only Sam and I were, as you said, batshit crazy, during the Leviathan crisis. Kate is just - "

" _Expression_ , Cas. It's. An. _Expression_."

Cas blinked, head nodding very slowly as comprehension hit. " _Right_ , of course." He leaned forward anyway. "Still, when you truly examine it, _I_ was the crazy one. Sam was just experiencing - "

"Okay Cas," Sam broke in. "Thanks for that trip down memory lane." He shoved the tapes back in the box and turned off the cassette player. "Now what?"

"Now we need to invite a demon over for a playdate," Dean announced, walking back in the room, no sign of the verbal slip a few minutes ago.

"And...how are we gonna do that?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged, stretching. "We'll figure it out tomorrow. Right now, I'm beat." He paused a second before turning to me. His mouth opened, and I stood up, waiting for the order to go to bed.

But none came.

"G'night," was all he said, before quietly walking away.

It's not that I wanted to be bossed around all the time, but that was Dean's way of showing his love. I knew he had something on his mind, and that, for some reason, kept him silent. But it stung a little, like I was ten all over again.

Sam kept looking between me and where Dean was standing, mouth making little noises like he was working on something to distract me. Kevin took the hint, said goodnight, and left.

Cas couldn't take a hint if you shoved it up his nose. He continued to sit there, probably mulling over his unstable time, oblivious to the pointed looks Sam and I tossed his way. Finally, Sam cleared his throat and stood up, making hand motions for me to follow. I stood, wobbling as a head rush threatened to put me back in the chair. Sam reached out to steady me, waiting for a sign that I was okay.

We didn't have _that_ much time.

Cas blinked up at us.

"We're gonna turn in," Sam explained, gesturing between us and steering me towards the hall.

Cas nodded, watching us go, lost in his own thoughts.

In the hall, Sam shook his head, laughing a little. I bumped him with my head, acknowledging his take on the angel. Even though this Castiel has interacted with humans for much longer than mine (who is _not_ dead who is _not_ dead), he still couldn't quite grasp human nuances. His connection to humanity obviously stemmed from and centered around Dean, who was all about nuances, as much as he was overtly obvious.

Sam took me to his room, which I found odd, considering I thought he was putting me to bed.

Because...I'm five.

He flopped down, groaning when he hit the mattress. His hand patted the spot next to him, so I sat, then lay down, both of us staring at the ceiling, our shoulders touching.

The door was mostly shut, with the only light coming from the hallway. It took about thirty seconds for his hand to feel out mine, fingers entwining, thumb gently rubbing the back of my hand.

"So...what sort of stuff _did_ you do behind our backs while growing up?"

The question was softly spoken, but the meaning behind it blasted through me. Sam and I talked about the third trial and its results. Dean thought he was keeping Sam from the day to day crap I experienced, helping him stay focused and shouldering all the burden (ie: Me). But Sam snuck into my room at night, and we visited, just like...just like when we were kids.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. It was a good day, so I was very much aware of who and where I was. "Sam...I can't...I mean - "

His hand squeezed mine. "Maybe I wasn't clear. I was asking what sort of stuff you did behind _our_ backs while _we_ were growing up together." He paused. "I wanna know." _I wanna know more about you. About us._

Sighing again, I squeezed his hand back, and considered his question, letting myself slip back into my real self, my real time. "I didn't do much, honestly. You know how it was - all the moving, no real connections. Besides, I grew up with you three and Bobby hovering all the time, waiting to beat the shit outta anyone that talked to me, so it wasn't like I had any relationships."

"Shit, I - "

"You two were my friends, and that was more than enough. I mean, it really was. You're the one who needed those other connections, and you got them at Stanford." I shrugged, tilting my head until it rested on his shoulder. "I had you guys. Besides, back in the beginning, Dean told me you two were better than friends. So, there you go."

We fell silent a moment.

Sam shifted a little, scratching his cheek, and I could _feel_ him thinking. "What was it like...when I was at school?"

I scrunched up my face. "You mean hunting with Dad and Dean?"

He nodded, swallowing, and I realized he probably didn't know anything about that time. Blowing out a breath, I curled onto my side, tentatively reaching out and toying with his hair. "Breathe, Sam," I ordered.

He exhaled nice and loud. "It's weird. All these years, I just...I never asked. I got hints of things, but it's like...if I wasn't there, then it didn't really exist, you know? I still feel shitty for leaving him, even though it was something I needed to do. So, I guess...the selfish part of me is glad he had someone there besides Dad."

He turned to face me, hope-filled eyes begging me to tell him he wasn't wrong.

I smiled. "You probably forgot." He rolled his eyes. "You wanted me to go with you, to get out of hunting, finish school, be safe. You really wanted Dean to go too, but you knew he wouldn't. In the end, we decided that someone needed to stay and make sure he was taken care of, the way he always takes care of us." I twirled the ends of his hair around my fingers. I thought back to that time, which now seemed so _so_ far away.

This was Sam's chance at getting some closure, and like I've always said, I never deny Sam anything. We talked for a long while, me answering questions and him always finding new ones to ask. In the end, he had his arms wrapped all around me, and we fell asleep.

**xxxxx**

I woke coughing, because... _hello_. Sam wasn't there, thankfully, because I was having a hard time getting this fit under control and the idea of someone worrying from a corner made it worse. By the time I had it together, I needed (craved, actually) a shower, so I slowly made my way down the hall and to my room where I gathered all my stuff.

No one was around, and I didn't call out. The quiet and solitude was actually...refreshing. It wasn't that I didn't want or like company, it was just that...I felt a little more normal when I did things on my own.

Like I wasn't dying.

A quick glance in the bathroom mirror, however, confirmed that this was nowhere near normal. A gaunt, exhausted girl stared back at me, and we both knew - not gettin' picked up at a bar looking like _this_.

I cleaned up, feeling better (but not looking much better), and wandered around the Bunker, feeling more lucid and _here_ than I had in a long time. We were about to start the third trial. The end, literally and figuratively, was coming up fast. Last night with Sam sort of felt like...our last night...our chance to be together, and talk like we used to, and just... _be_.

I've been walking around with this whole "I've made peace with dying" mantra in my head. I've never been to Heaven, but obviously I knew it exists. Been to Hell, and while I wasn't fond of it, it's a sort-of known quantity. Not that I thought I was going there, but, I dunno...you never know. It did bother me that I didn't know where I'd be - trapped forever in an afterlife with souls I didn't know, or sent home, and unable to be with my family?

Decisions, decisions…

I pulled Dad's flannel shirt closer and headed to the kitchen for some cranberry juice. Sam was there, making coffee, frowning over the head of a bleary-eyed Dean, sitting at the table, head in his hands.

"Hey there," Sam said, eyes shooting to Dean real quick before he opened the fridge. "Juice?"

I nodded, taking in Dean's appearance. "Yeah, thanks." Making a snap decision, I moved behind him, rested my chin on his head, and gave him a hug. "You made the right call by making me stay behind. A long car ride wasn't a good choice, no matter how much I wanted to go." _Sorry I was such a baby._

It took a few seconds, but he reached up and hugged back. _Sorry I didn't ask first._

Sam handed me a glass of juice, pulled out a chair and motioned for me to sit. Risking a glance at Dean, he looked better, and I caught him exchanging a look with Sam.

"So...we need a demon play date," I started.

Dean sat up, motioning for some coffee. "Yeah, been thinking on that. The trial needs to take place on consecrated ground. As much as I want it done here, where we have more protection, there's no way we're gonna get that dungeon consecrated."

Sam sat down, handing over a steaming mug of coffee to Dean. "Even Cas can't perform the rituals, so that means - "

"A church...finding an old church that's out of the way, so we won't be disturbed." I sipped my juice, savoring the strong, tart taste, giving the remnants of blood a hearty _Fuck You_ as I swallowed.

Dean nodded, sipping and groaning in relief as the bitter liquid hit his mouth. "We can trap a demon - that's not an issue. Question is, which one?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't think it matters. We can summon crossroads demons, we can even summon Crowley. But we'd probably be better off getting a lower level demon, one whose absence won't go detected for a while, so we're off their radar."

That's when Sam's phone rang.

He pulled it out of his pocket, frowning at the screen.

"What?" Dean asked, sipping from his mug again.

"It's Crowley…" Three sets of eyebrows rose, as Sam answered and set it on speaker phone. "What is it, Crowley?"

" _Oh, Moose, you wound me with your acidic tone. No wonder you can't keep friends around."_

"Save it, asshole, what do you want?"

" _Lovely, Not Moose is there, too. That makes this easier. I found this delicious treasure online at Amazon…"_ Dean looked up and mouthed, _he shops?_ Sam just shrugged. " _It's a whole set of books...the Supernatural series. Quite priceless, let me tell you."_

Sam and Dean both sat up straight, disgust and dread blended together on their faces.

" _Interesting read, I honestly couldn't put them down. Sam - the heartbreak of losing your girlfriend. Dean - the agony of losing your brother. And no mention anywhere, of a little sister."_ Their eyes swiveled to me. " _ **Fascinating**_ _. Anyway, reading these books brought up all sorts of memories of our times together, the good, the bad - "_

"They're all bad, Crowley," Dean growled.

Crowley sighed. " _I know, even better. But it brought up something important. What've you boys been up to lately? One of my puppies died almost a year ago, another wounded. I also had reports of unwanted visitors in Hell._ _ **My. Hell.**_ " His calm demeanor broke, as anger bled through. It was quickly squelched, and the flippant cadence returned. " _All these things colliding made me miss our fun together, so I thought up a little game. Does Blackwater Ridge ring a bell?"_

Sam and Dean locked eyes, sorting through their memories. I, however, was the one who more recently binge read those books. I tapped Sam's wrist and mouthed, _Wendigo in Colorado_. He sat up straight, remembering that hunt, Dean perking up a second later.

"Yeah...what about it?" We were all on edge, not knowing what Crowley was planning.

" _You saved young Tommy Collins from a terrible fate back then. It's too bad you couldn't save him this time."_

The phone went dead.

"What the fuck?" Dean asked, eyes wide.

Sam recovered first, bolting from the kitchen. Dean and I followed him into the library, where he woke his slumbering laptop and began a frantic online search. I sat next to him, Dean hovered from behind, and we all stared at the screen, while the news report stared back.

_Tommy Collins, twenty-four, died mysteriously while on a vacation in the woods with his long-time girlfriend. She claimed that he started to panic, frantically running around their cabin babbling about a "wendigo", when he suddenly began bleeding from his eyes and ears. His head exploded soon after._

"Holy shit…" Sam breathed. Eyes still on the screen, he asked, "You think Crowley did that?"

Dean's jaw clenched, hands automatically balling into fists. "You know he did."

We all jumped when Sam's phone rang again - forgotten in the kitchen. Dean ran back, answering it on the third ring. "Crowley, you son of a bitch - "

" _You know what's nice this time of year? Prosperity, Indiana. People there_ _ **love**_ _their cookies."_ He hung up, and Sam's phone beeped with a text, containing coordinates.

"Sam?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head, tapping on his phone. "The coordinates go to an address in...Prosperity, Indiana." He looked up at Dean. "Why does that town sound familiar?"

Dean shook his head, eyes darting back and forth, thinking. Sam looked to me. I shrugged helplessly. "I dunno - didn't see it in the books I read."

Dean's head shot up. "Witches. Remember the witch couple? And that...that assistant? The one who baked?"

Sam's eyes grew. "Oh, shit...Jenny something, right?"

Already pushing back his chair, Dean asked, "How far is it?"

Sam tapped his phone. "Eleven and a half hours."

"I can make it in ten. Let's move." He turned to go, then paused, looking at me.

I was ready for this. "Go - I'll hold the fort here, keep looking for a way to finish the trial." He glanced at Sam, uncertainty playing across his features. "Time is not on your side with this one, Dean. You can't...you can't be held back because of me. _Just go_."

It was like I unhooked a leash neither of us knew was around his neck. He nodded a thanks, and ran, calling over his shoulder, "Be ready in five, Sammy!"

Sam nodded back, even though Dean couldn't see him. Facing me, he asked, "You sure about this?"

"You're really asking me that? There's no time, Sam. _Go."_

Sam cupped my cheek for a second, before pocketing his phone and following Dean out of the room. He barrelled past a disheveled Kevin, who staggered back a couple steps when Sam pushed past. "What's going on?"

I sighed. "Crowley's making a dick move."

Kevin's eyebrows disappeared under his hair, which, stuck out in several directions. "That's the only move he knows."

I snorted, "True, that. C'mon. I'll explain while we gather up some reading material."

**xxxxx**

Several hours later, I was cursing the stupid trials and cursing the stupid angels and cursing my stupid body. Kevin held a cool cloth to my head, looking quite a bit more than freaked out. Coughing up blood was one thing. What I just did ten minutes ago? Way beyond, that.

"Are you sure you don't want me to call them?" This is the fourth time he asked.

Shaking my head, I held the cloth in place. "No - stop askin'. They're busy, they're already worried, and there's nothing they can do anyway."

Kevin sighed, handing me a glass of juice. "Here - try this."

Just the thought of swallowing _anything_ made my stomach curl, but the taste in my _mouth_ made my stomach curl, so it didn't matter. Oh look - he even gave me a straw.

Sipping carefully, I nodded a thanks, burrowing deeper in the blanket and resting my head against the couch's cool leather. "It'll be over soon, right?"

I didn't think he could look more uncomfortable, but I was wrong.

Since Sam and Dean left for Indiana, Kevin and I went through the rest of Father Thompson's work, gathering equipment and scouting locations for the third trial. Turned out there weren't as many abandoned church sites as one would think. I checked my phone a million times to see if I somehow missed a call, even though the phone was right next to me and I was spending more time staring at it than actually sorting through research.

Cas left after we told him what Crowley was doing, claiming he had some business to take care of. Gotta love aloof, detached angels.

My head pounded with a ferocity I didn't think was possible. No medicine could force its retreat, either, so it was simply a matter of waiting it out. Before I could stop myself, I whispered miserably, "I want my dad."

Way to make an already awkward atmosphere even worse, Kate.

My phone rang, and a quick glance at the screen showed Sam's name. I could barely talk, so Kevin answered, setting the phone down and turning on the speakers. "Hey Sam - what's up?" Good - he sounded normal.

"Where's Kate?"

_Jesus_. "I'm here - what happened?" Good - I believe I sounded normal. _Ish_.

"She was dead when we got here. Roasted in her own oven." _Gross…_

Dean was in the background. "She's still warm!" _More gross!_

"Shit - I'm sorry, Sam. Did you call Crowley?"

"Yeah, no answer. You okay? You sound off."

Kevin snorted. I smacked him. "Yeah - I'm fine. So now what?"

Sam sighed. "I dunno. We're gonna get out of here, though, get distance from the body, then figure out what to...hang on...Crowley's callin' - I'll call you right back."

_Click_.

"What the fuck?" Kevin asked, to no one in particular. I nodded my agreement. Crowley was up to something...just needed to figure out what.

My phone rang again, only this time, it was from the number six-six-six.

Oh.

Oh, _ha-ha_.

Rolling his eyes, Kevin once again set the volume to speaker, and Crowley's voice flooded the room.

" _I love technology. I can call two people at once, saving me time and energy. It's amazing."_

" _Crowley! You leave her out of this!_ " Dean's voice, laced with malice and anger, made us jump.

" _Tsk tsk, Squirrel, be nice. I'm beginning to think she's very much a part of this, so it's only fitting to include her on the conversation."_

Wetting my lips, I prayed that my voice wouldn't sound as shitty as I felt. "What do you want?"

" _ **There**_ _she is. Hello, dear, thanks for joining us. Now. Here's what I decided. You're all targeting Hell. And I repeat, it is_ _ **My**_ _Hell. Therefore, I'm exacting a little...mmm...revenge. Everyone you've ever saved over the course of your miserable, human lives, is at risk. Lucky for me, I have access to a whole list of almost-victims to choose from. My mother was quite a skilled little witch. She passed a few things on to me before she left."_

"You - _what?_ "

" _Mosse-eloquence is a beautiful thing. You know, I read about a beautiful art dealer in these books. What's her name...Sarah something. I'll go back and check, but she sounds lovely."_

The phone goes dead, cutting us off from Crowley as well as the boys.

"Oh God…he's gonna kill all those people…" I thought I felt nauseous before…

My phone rang, and my fingers fumbled to answer it. "Sam? JesusChrist, what are you - "

"Indianapolis - he's sending us to a hotel in Indy. We're headed there now - I'll call soon."

Frustrated, I tossed the phone on the table, growling a little at the helpless feeling in the pit of my stomach. I remembered that book. Sam had a thing for Sarah - his first spark since Jessica's death.

This was gonna suck.

Luckily, they were only an hour away from her, so it wasn't long before the phone rang again, this time from Dean.

"Hey - what's going on?" I was feeling a little better, and had plenty of time for worry to practically eat me alive.

He sounded breathless, like he'd been running around. "We found her - in a hotel room. She's at a fucking art conference, and we come busting in tellin' her the King of Hell wants to kill her." I imagined him shaking his head in disgust. "Sam's with her, I'm looking for a hex bag, cursed something, anything. You, uh, read this book, right?"

"Yeah…"

"Yeah. Sam's barely holding it together. He's...he's trying to be strong, for her, but... _yeah_."

He didn't need to say any more than that. I was already starting to tear up. "Do we have a time limit? Any way of knowing when he's gonna strike?"

"Sam tried tracking the times of the two deaths. They seem to be almost twelve hours apart. If that's the case, we have about...three hours to go."

Good lord - how hot was that oven so Jenny's body was still warm after eight hours?

"Is there anything we can do?"

"Is Cas there? I know he's hurt, but maybe he can zap over here and find the fucking curse with his angel mojo. He isn't answering me."

Ooh. "Uh - no, he left a while ago. He just said he had things to do."

Dean snorted. "Of course he did. Alright then, we're on our own. Just...stay put. I'll call if we need anything."

"Okay. Be careful."

"Always am."

"Uh, no, you're not."

"Exactly. I'll call soon."

**xxxxx**

A little over three hours later, he called back. I knew immediately that things didn't turn out well.

"Dean…?"

"Yeah, we, uh, blew it. The hex bag was in her fucking phone. He must've used magic to make it fit. Never occurred to me to look there."

Oh God…"Sam? How - how's Sam?"

Pause. "A fucking mess. She had a kid, too, a baby."

I sighed, wiping away some tears while struggling to sit up. "So, now what? What does he want?"

Dean barked a laugh. "He wants us to stop the trials, and he wants the demon tablet."

Well, fuck, of course he does.

"Okay...okay, so we stop. We stop, and people stop dying, and - "

"No. This is why we have to keep going. This fucking asshole needs to be sent to his room, and never let out."

"But, Dean - "

"You're not dying for no reason, Kate. Cas said you started and you have to finish. We'll figure something out. He didn't - "

Sam started yelling in the background. "Dean! It's Jody!"

"What?"

"Jody Mills! He's after Jody Mills back in Sioux Falls. We have to get there before he does!"

_Oh_ _JesusChrist_ \- not Jody! "Oh, my God - Dean! You have to - "

"We're on it."

_Click_.

_Godfuckingdammit._ It's not that I felt nothing for these victims, because I did. But...but _Jody._..I _knew_ her. She's _Dad's girlfriend_ for Christ's sake. Maybe not here, but _still_.

Clicking on the laptop, I figured out that Sioux Falls was eleven hours from Indy. The boys were battling exhaustion by now. There was no way they'd make it another eleven hours on the road.

Panic set in, but so did a plan.

Kevin walked in. "Okay, I'm gonna...what is it? What happened?"

I got to my feet, gripping the chair so I didn't topple over. "I gotta get to Sioux Falls. That's where Crowley's next victim is. He's trying to coerce us into stopping the trials and get the demon tablet."

Kevin pursed his lips. "Okay. Let's go."

I waggled a finger at him. "Nope - not you."

He threw his hands in the air. "How the fuck are you supposed to drive?"

"I'll figure that out. But _you_ , prophet of the Lord, need to stay here, where it's warded and safe."

"Maybe you missed the memo, but you can't drive like this."

"No, but _I_ can."

We both turned, just as Cas walked in, a hand still pressed to his side, but _here_.

"You're back!" I yelped, startled, and apparently into stating the obvious.

Luckily, Cas didn't mind. "Yes, I'm back, and while I can't zap there, as Dean likes to call it, I _can_ drive."

"Great - we're less than six hours away. We'll get there in time."

I tried to jog to my room for my weapons and _heyyy_ , maybe a clean shirt, when I tripped on my blankets and almost pitched face first into the corner of the table. In an instant, Cas was there, righting me with a small smile on his face. "Good thing I can zap across a room, though."

I let out a shaky sigh, flashing him a grin. "See? You're needed. Gimme a few minutes, and we can go."

He nodded, releasing me and stepping back, eyeing his jeans and t-shirt. "I'll go change back into my regular clothes. It feels...wrong...going out in this."

Snickering, I wobbled for the hallway. "Do whatever feels right, Cas. Just be ready to go in a few minutes."

**xxxxx**

We met in the garage ten minutes later (Sue me - I had to pee). Cas picked one of the vintage cars - I think it was a Ford something - and nabbed the keys from the pegboard. Kevin packed me juice and crackers (I love him), and before long, we were pulling out of the garage, Kevin waving goodbye as the door shut behind us.

Cas only mildly clipped the brick wall on the way out, and immediately made me promise not to tell Dean.

Once I knew we were safely on the highway in the right direction, I ventured a call to Sam.

He answered immediately. "Hey…"

"Hey, yourself. Listen...um...I'm on my way to Sioux Falls."

" _What?_ Kate, _no!_ You can't drive in your condition!"

"So I've heard. But I'm not driving, Cas is."

"Cas?! _He's_ driving?"

Dean yelled into the phone, "Which car? And really, is that any better than you behind the wheel?"

Cas, being Cas, took no offense, instead tilting his head from side to side, as if weighing those options. I rolled my eyes. "Listen to me. We're only six hours away. We'll get there way before you. Sam - I'm so sorry about Sarah. Please try to understand - this is _Jody_. I can't...I have to do something."

Sam sighed into the phone. "I get it. Just... _please_ be careful."

"You too."

**xxxxx**

The ride was quiet, especially since the angel had no idea about the need for idle chitchat to pass the time.

I dozed off after a while, missing the Impala's deep growl accompanied by Dean's humming.

When I woke, we were on Route 46, almost to Interstate 29. Cas glanced over as I stretched.

"Good morning. Actually, it's late afternoon and early evening, but you just woke up, so…"

"Good morning's fine, Cas. How're we doing on gas?" I rubbed my eyes, trying to wake up faster and desperately wanting a large cup of coffee.

Cas ducked his head to check the gauge. "It is almost empty. We should stop. I believe you have to use the restroom as well."

I blinked at him.

He actually blushed. "Because you just woke. I believe humans tend to go to the bathroom after they've slept a while."

That was better than him somehow detecting that I had to take a piss.

We passed a sign promising clean bathrooms, hot coffee, and cheap gas. A trifecta of awesome. "Take that exit and we'll fill up."

He nodded.

The rest stop was decent, the coffee was strong, and yes, I did go to the bathroom. Before long, we were back on the road. I felt a lot better after walking around and getting some caffeine, even though the stop was brief and rushed.

Taking a sip, I watched the scenery blur by. "Hey Cas...why'd you leave earlier?"

He licked his lips and adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. "Another angel wished to speak with me, so I left to meet him."

That wasn't so bad, right?

"Do I know him?"

Cas sighed. "No, no one does. He - "

His phone rang, cutting him off. Today was a stream of conversations interrupted by phone calls. It felt like I was in one of those TV sitcoms where they show clips of past episodes, breaking up whatever's happening every few minutes. He fumbled in his pockets, making the car swerve a little, encouraging me to grip the door handle, swearing under my breath.

After the fifth ring, he yanked it out of his pocket, tossing it to me. One look, and my heart sank. I answered. "Crowley. What do you want?"

Castiel glanced over, nodding at me to turn on the speakers. " _Funny thing. This little game I'm playing was supposed to star Moose and Squirrel, not Natasha. Yet, there you are, speeding along, with the stoic Castiel at the helm."_

I stared at Cas in horror. How the fuck did he know what we were doing? Castiel's brow furrowed, his knuckles turning white against the steering wheel.

" _Since you decided to not play by the rules, I decided to change them. Poor, poor Sheriff Mills. We were having such a lovely lunch, too. I absolutely adore Italian food."_

I knew exactly where they were - Jody loved the lasagna at Carino's. There was no fucking way we'd get there in time. Frustrated, I yelled at the screen, but the call ended, leaving me open-mouthed and freaking out. Without warning, Cas spun the wheel, taking us to the shoulder. The car came to a screeching halt in the gravel, dust and debris flying everywhere.

"Cas! What the fuck - " He reached over, taking my wrist, and the next thing I knew, we were in a bathroom, white tile and the smell of perfumed soap in the air.

On the floor, was Jody, writhing in pain, blood dribbling out of her mouth. Not stopping to think, I dumped the contents of her purse onto the floor, searching for a hex bag, vaguely aware of Cas, leaning heavily against a sink behind me. Remembering where Dean found Sarah's hex bag, I smashed Jody's phone against the floor, almost crowing when a dark cloth sack fell out.

I was about to rummage through my pockets for a lighter, when Cas held out a hand, and the bag caught fire. Dropping it in a sink, I simultaneously watched it burn and Jody stop bleeding. Cas flashed me a smile, then promptly passed out onto the floor. Jody lay panting, a shaky hand passing over her mouth, wiping the blood off her lips.

I sagged against the wall, one hand on her shoulder, trying to catch my breath and not throw up. The room was spinning, my chest was on fire, and spots danced before my eyes. Angel travel was not agreeing with post-trial Kate.

At all.

So naturally, my phone had to ring.

" _Goddammit…_ " I muttered, closing my eyes and pulling it out of my pocket. Cracking one eye open, I found the right button and answered it.

"Kate? Kate!"

Oooh - probably should've done more than just push the button. "Yeah," I croaked, coughing roughly into my sleeve. " 'M here…" Blood stained the inside of my elbow, and I felt it trailing down my chin.

"Jesus Christ - what the fuck is going on? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Sam...it's great. All...great." Jody blinked up at me, eyes wide and full of confusion and fear. "Jody says hi…" _Make the room sit still...pleeeeeeease make the room sit still..._

Sam heaved a sigh. "Crowley called, scared the shit out of us, and - _wait!_ _Jody?!_ How'd you _get_ there?"

I peeked at Cas, still a motionless lump on the floor. "Cas. Long story. No. Short story...he zapped us." It was getting harder to stay conscious.

"Listen - Dean's talking with Crowley. Just...hang tight - we'll be there soon." _Mmmm...they're almost here. Awesome. I could take a nap, then._ "Kate?"

My eyes slipped shut. "Here - talk t'Jody…" I dropped the phone and blacked out.


	29. Chapter 29

Relief hit the second the icepack touched the back of my head. " _Yesssss…_.thank you so much…" I gave Jody a quick smile before closing my eyes, wanting to lose myself in the cold spot that was working on my ice-pick level headache.

Jody sat next to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "It's the least I can do. I owe you my life."

I flapped a hand at her, leaning back so the couch would hold the ice in place. "Wasn't gonna let you die."

We sat in a comfortable silence, me feeling like more of a human being and Jody...well… probably feeling very much not dead.

"How long til they get here?" I asked.

"Maybe an hour. I got the feeling Dean was hauling ass. I may need to call in some favors if he gets pulled over."

I snorted, adjusting the pack so it touched another throbbing section. "If Dean actually pulls over, I'll marry Crowley."

Jody let out this laugh that was hard to describe. I knew he posed as some guy on a dating site, and that she was actually out on a date with him when he decided to kill her. I guess she was caught between amusement and  _holy fucking shit_.

Welcome to the club.

"How's Cas doing?" I didn't bother opening my eyes to look for him. I knew the emergency techs took him up to a spare bedroom.

Jody sighed. "Still sleeping. That's...that's okay, right?"

I cracked open one eye. "Yeah. No? I dunno, actually." I sighed, wishing Sam was here to figure it out. "He's an angel, so there's no real good way to know. He wasn't at full strength when he brought us here."

Jody shook her head, shivering a little and wrapping her arms around her midsection. "I still can't believe your timing. Another minute, and…" She sighed, sinking back against the couch.

I patted her knee, which seemed woefully inadequate, but was all I could muster with my eyes closed. "Don't think about it. It's over...focus on that." I sighed back at her. "This ice is a gift from the gods, seriously."

Jody laughed. "More like a gift from my Kenmore." She paused, and I knew what was coming. "So...you're their  _sister_?"

I bit my tongue to refrain from saying  _from the same mister,_  silently cursing Dean for burning that into my head. Before I could adequately reply with more than a grunty-like acknowledgement, someone banged on the front door.

My initial reaction was to reach for my gun, but it wasn't on me (she put it on the table) (didn't stop me from groping for it, though). I thought the demons found us, and I let the ice pack slide off my neck when I sat forward. But then I realized...since when do demons knock?

Jody was off the couch when Sam's voice rang out. "Jody?"

She smirked at me. "I guess I was a little off in my estimation."

As she unlocked and unbolted the door, I muttered back, "That's usually the case with those two."

She laughed, opening the door, and my two bruiser sized brothers barreled their way inside, eyes darting everywhere, taking in everything, including me on the couch, feebly waving hullo.

Dean was at my side in an instant, wordlessly fingering the ice pack, determining what new level of crap I was feeling.

Sam was assessing Jody. "You sure you're okay? Did you get checked out?"

Jody nodded. "Yeah...they said I was fine." She gave Sam a hug, which he wholeheartedly returned. When she pulled back, she tilted her head, studying him. "You okay?"

Sam's tongue darted out, wetting his lips as his eyes briefly met Dean's. "Uh...yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." His feet shuffled, and he tucked some hair behind his ears.

Sure you are, Sam.

Jody just nodded, backing off and giving him room.

Dean's attention returned to me. "Bad day, huh?"

Eyes all innocent, "Pfffft, what? We made an awesome rescue, thank you very much. It's all good."

Our eyes locked.

He made a humming sound, checking my forehead and tugging on my bloodstained jacket, as if to show me that  _Heyyy, look!_   _There's blood here, from your insides!_

Not wanting to look like a child in front of Jody, I stuck out my tongue.

Her serious Mom face on, Jody stepped up behind him. "She's been coughing up some blood, has a killer headache, and probably needs a doctor, but you said no hospitals, so…" She shot Dean a disapproving look, simultaneously showing worry and asking  _what the fuck_  was going on.

Dean's hand dragged down his face with a trembling hand. He slowly stood, facing her, pointedly ignoring her pointed commentary on his "parenting". "Where's Cas?"

Jody motioned towards the stairs with her head. "Upstairs - still unconscious. At least he was last time I checked." She folded her arms and I swear she tapped her foot. Winchester deflection didn't work on this Jody, either.

I kept my mouth shut, not sure what they'd want her to know. I hadn't been awake that long, with the headache and another coughing fit taking up most of our time together. The first chance she had to grill me was right before they showed up.

After a closer look at both of them, their exhaustion was plain as day. Sam, looking really uncomfortable, sighed. "Hey, Jody, can we, uh...we're beat...and…"

Jody's posture slumped, and she nodded with understanding. "Of course, Sam. I'll get you upstairs and you can get some sleep. But then…"

Sam nodded, "Everything - we'll tell you everything."

Dean nodded, too, so tired he couldn't say anything else.

After an awkward first three tries, I got to my feet. "I'm up. For now, at least. I can fill her in, if that's okay…" Both Sam and I looked at Dean to make the call. He nodded, yawning and swaying a bit, reaching out to steady himself.

Yeah, they were done.

One of Jody's extra rooms had a queen bed in it, not ideal, but they could fit, and they were past the point of caring. Dean went to check on Cas, Sam went to the bathroom, I sat on the bed thinking that a nap would be good.

And I just woke up.

_Sigh_.

I sat there, eyes closed, deciding between talking with Jody and passing out again, when the bed dipped and someone pulled my hair off the back of my neck, which was,  _oh gross,_  seriously sweaty.

Not bothering to open my eyes, I blurted, "I'll shower in the morning - I promise."

Sam chuckled, sweeping my hair around my neck to hang over one shoulder. "Don't worry about it. We're not exactly fresh, either."

Eyes still closed, I leaned carefully until my head lie against his chest. His heartbeat thumped against my forehead, a little fast, but  _there_. "How're you doing?" I mumbled, feeling the soft flannel fabric brush against my cheek.

I felt him swallow. He scratched behind his ear, contemplating how to answer. An arm snaked across my shoulders, squeezing gently. "I don't know how to express how completely  _unfair_  her death was. There wasn't a damn thing we could do, either. The room wasn't warded. If we found the hex bag in time, he would've found another way to kill her. Simple as that. I know that...Dean knows that...but he still feels responsible, because - "

I knew damn well what was going through Dean's mind. I also knew what happened, and that it wasn't right. "Sam." I interjected. "I asked how  _you_  were  _doing_."

Ha -  _that_  made him huff.

And swallow again.

Then something wet and warm hit my nose.

_Aw, Sam…_

I wrapped my arms around him, nodding. "Yeah...I thought so."

He sniffed and wiped his eyes, clearing his throat and shifting on the bed and, "Jesus, Sam, just be sad for a second, okay? It's okay."

Another huff, then...a really tight hug, his chin on my head, holding like he'd never let go.

It took a few minutes for him to settle, but he did, sighing and loosening his deathgrip on me. I had a feeling this resurfaced memories of Jess dying, and coupled with his exhaustion, he was a wrung out mess.

I sat up, venturing a peek. Hmmm...tight jaw, hooded eyes, stubble glistening with tears, bobbing Adam's apple, wrinkled up forehead...yup - Grieving Sam that's barely holding it together.

"Okay…" I patted his chest. "Time for you to get some sleep. Everything will still be shitty in the morning, but at least you won't be as tired."

He laugh-sobbed at that, ducking his head while shaking it. I gave him a half-smile. "I'm serious, Sam. Lie down."

One last scrub at his eyes and he nodded back, crawling into bed, reminding me of how willing Sam was to follow directions when he couldn't think straight. Like a good little sister, I tucked him in, smiling when he yawned and curled into a ball, falling asleep almost immediately.

There he was...lying there, just...being  _normal_. It totally made me tear up. I was going to  _lose_  this once the trial was over.

_No more Sam._

Well, until he  _died_ , and that wasn't exactly an uplifting thought. Balling my hands into fists, I forced my fingernails into my skin so I had something else to focus on. I took a slow, raspy breath and left the room as fast as I could.

I closed the door, turned, and ran right into Dean. Literally - I slammed  _right into_  him.

"Whoa, hey there."

I wanted to ask how Cas was. I wanted to let him know that Sam was a mess. I wanted to tell him to go to bed and not worry about me or Jody or anything.

What I  _did_ , was burst into tears, muffling my sobs in his shirt and clinging to him with a ferocity that pushed him back a couple steps. It was the hiccupy kind of crying, where you can't control its intensity, because everything just comes flooding out.

Apparently, the noble self-talk about dying was all a bunch of hooey.

I waited for the questions, the confusion, the quips.

What I  _got_ , was a deep sigh, a huge hug, and, "Been waitin' for this, kiddo," murmured into my ear, which made me cry even harder. Dean was beyond tired, beyond frazzled, beyond worried. The last thing he needed was my little meltdown when he desperately needed sleep.

And let's welcome Guilt to the party…

My Goddamn saint of a brother waited until the worst of it died down. Then he quietly led me back downstairs to the couch, where he plopped down, pulling me next to him, and let me finish turning into a puddle of goo. His hands stroked my hair, rubbed my back, held me close.

Eventually, I was able to choke out, "Sh...shit...I'm sorry…"

That earned me a cuff on the head (and  _fuck him_ , not a light one). I tried again. "You...you need to sleep. I didn't mean to -  _ow!_ "

I figured that being smacked during an outburst meant I needed to shut up, so I did just that, letting him soothe and settle me the way only Dean could.

Tissues appeared (I swear I don't know how he does it), and I wiped off my face, blew my nose, and got myself under control. That's when I noticed  _him_  wiping  _his_  face, blowing  _his_ nose and getting  _him_ self under control.

I tried to sit up, but he held me tight, keeping me against him, unable to see his face. "I'm only gonna say this once, because I don't do... _talking_." I almost held my breath. "I'm not in favor of you dying. I watched Sam do it twice, and I don't...I don't handle losing people well. I'm trying to tell myself that you won't...that we don't really know what'll happen...but Cas seems to think it will happen. To make it worse, I don't know what'll happen  _after_. I wish to hell I did, but I don't. But that doesn't meant we won't try like hell to figure it out."

A small alarm started going off in my head, and I struggled to sit up, at least a little, and stare him right in the eyes. "If you do anything stupid, I fucking  _swear to God_ …"

Dean rolled his eyes. "I won't. Sam wouldn't let me." I opened my mouth, and he cut me off. "I won't let him do anything stupid, either. I promise, okay? I'm just saying...we'll find out where...where you are…" Wow, we  _both_  choked on that at the same time. "...and make sure you're ok. I just...I can't promise how long it'll take, but remember that, okay? We'll look."

Okay, I got that this was a carryover from Purgatory and the Cage. But there was something different in his words. It wasn't a pledge to bring me back, it was a pledge to make sure I was okay, to continue taking care of me, no matter what.

_JesusfuckingChrist_ , that's why I fucking love them so Goddamn much.

The look on my face told him that, I knew it did, because he nodded, put his hand on the back of my head, and forced me to lie back against him. "Now. Let me fucking go to sleep."

I laugh-sighed, got comfortable, losing myself in Dean's comfort, and sinking into sleep. Jody just had to wait.

**xxxxx**

Breakfast took a while. We filled Jody in on everything that was going on, and she was appropriately worried, freaked out, and angry all at the same time. Luckily she was more pissed at Crowley than the boys for not filling her in sooner.

I...didn't eat anything. My insides felt like they were burning, and it made swallowing a tad uncomfortable. Most of my time was spent with my knees pulled to my chest, my head resting against Sam on the couch. I couldn't even get cranberry juice down my throat.

_Your organs have burns on them, and are slowly deteriorating. I'm afraid our trip here only made your condition worse._

_OhmyGod_...I stared at Cas who slowly shuffled into the living room, my mouth hanging open. It was one thing to know you were dying. It was another to know all the specifics.

"Kate? What is it?"

My heart pounded in my chest, in my head, in my everything. Forgetting that Cas spoke in my head, I answered out loud. "Burned? They're  _burned_? Like..." I floundered a second, realizing there wasn't another synonym to use, there. "... _burned?_ "

Cas nodded, "That's...what I said…" He wore an almost guilty look, his gaze shifting from Dean, to Sam, and back to me. "The grace inside you is definitely keeping you alive at this point, but...there isn't much time. You need to complete the third trial soon."

Jody stared wide-eyed. "What's burned?"

I swallowed hard. "All my organs," I whispered. I wiped my hand over my mouth. I mean, I knew it was bad, but burned organs? That's just...it's... _yeah_.

Dean sat forward. "Excuse me? Your... _what?_ "

Cas made a face like he was about to disagree. "Well...technically…" He tilted his head and squinted at me, his eyes roaming up and down my body, like Superman using his X-Ray vision. "No...you were correct. All of them."

Sam sat up straight. "All of them? Including...her brain?"

At this point, I covered my face with my hands. "I don't wanna know."

"But - "

I glared at him, willing lasers to appear if at all possible. "Don't. Answer."  _I fucking mean it, Cas. It doesn't matter at this point, does it?_

Cas sighed, purposefully avoiding Dean's looks. He nodded at me in agreement, and turned to Jody. "Thank you for your hospitality. I apologize for being...indisposed...for so long."

Jody recovered from the Organ News and blinked repeatedly at the angel. "Oh - uh...no big deal. Thanks for saving my life!" She laughed nervously, getting up and reaching for the coffee pot. "You want some coffee?" Her hand dropped, and she frowned. "Or...I mean, do angels  _drink_  coffee? Do you eat at all? Or…"

Cas smiled at her. "I don't require any beverages, thank you."

It took that whole little exchange for me to calm down and push the burned insides thing out of my mind. Or off to the side. Or...okay, I couldn't stop obsessing.  _Jesus_  - what if...what if my brain  _was_  damaged? I tilted my head to the side, trying to see if I could determine how a burned brain would feel. Was I losing it mentally, and didn't realize it? When would I know?  _How_  would I know? Maybe I  _did_  want to know. Maybe -

"Your brain is fine, Kate."

As if on cue, all three of us explosively let out a breath and sagged, Sam and I against the couch, Dean in an armchair.

"But I fear it will also succumb to the effects of the trial."

"Jesus, Cas!" Dean scolded.

Cas turned to him, and  _oooh_  - gave him a  _JesusChrist, Dean!_  look. "Hiding it doesn't change anything. Don't you think it's important to know, so you can plan more effectively?"

Dean threw his hands in the air. "Of course I do - but just blurting out - " He lowered his voice to imitate Cas. "Your organs all have second degree burns on them, but luckily your brain is only sunburned!" He dropped the voice. "It's like - "

"That's actually a good analogy. The sunburned part, I mean. However, I detect some  _third_  degree burns, and - "

"Okay!" Sam snapped. "Let's...let's focus on what we're doing next." He glanced at me and I nodded back, giving him a big smile to prove that we needed to just keep moving ahead, here.

Because continuing the chit-chat of my burned interior was conjuring up all sorts of gross images. But one thing was for sure - if my brain was also going to start... _deteriorating_...we had to get a move on.

Dean did his hand-face thing and sighed. "Alright. Cas - can you make it so we're sure there isn't a demon spying on us?"

"Of course, Dean." Cas waved his hand, and...nothing happened.

We all glanced around the room, not sure what we were looking for. Cas actually rolled his eyes. "You can't see the wards, but they're there. Trust me."

Dean snorted at that, but nodded anyway and kept talking. "Okay...so Sam and I came up with a plan on the drive here." He leaned forward, elbows on knees, and sported a look that told everyone in the area that the fugly he was hunting was  _soooo_  dead. "I worked out a deal with Crowley." He held up a hand to shut me up, and all I did was raise an eyebrow. "Lemme finish. Crowley fucked with us for the last time. So I agreed to stop the trials and hand over the demon tablet in exchange for the angel tablet. But when we go to make the deal, we're gonna capture him, and use  _him_  for the third trial."

He leaned back, a shit-eating grin on his face, waiting for the praise to come rolling in.

"How will you capture him, Dean?" Cas asked. "Just putting him in a Devil's Trap won't be enough to move him to consecrated ground."

Sam cleared his throat. "We thought about that. Apparently, Dean raided our dungeon some time after we discovered it."

"You...have a  _dungeon?_ " Jody asked incredulously.

Dean grinned at her. "It's fucking awesome!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Anyway. We have cuffs with spells and wards carved into them that will make Crowley completely powerless. We can move him as long as the cuffs stay on."

"So, meet up for the deal, somehow get close enough to snap the cuffs on, and then we have us a demon to cure." I rocked my head from side to side, weighing the facets of this plan.

Fuck me, it was good.

I nodded at them. "I like it!"

Dean waggled his eyebrows back. "Thought you would. He wants all three of us to sign it, because he doesn't trust that if only one of us agrees, the other two won't restart the trials. So we all need to be there anyway, which is good, just in case."

I faltered at that one. "Uh...I'm...not gonna be a whole lot of help, if something goes wrong."

Now  _Dean_  rolled his eyes. "It'll be fine.  _Trust_  me."

And last but not least,  _I_  rolled  _my_  eyes.

Jody refilled everyone's mug with fresh coffee. "So all you need is consecrated ground to perform this trial, right?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Something out of the way, preferably abandoned so we don't have to worry about being interrupted."

Jody sat down, coffee pot still in her hand. "Does it really have to be abandoned? I mean, could it be just...not really used a lot?"

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance. "It'd be easier if the chance of running into someone was zero," Dean explained. "We're gonna be injecting blood into the King of Hell. Not the kind of thing for tourists."

Jody pursed her lips and set the coffee pot on the table. "There's a church in Lake County, just a little north of Madison. It's an old Catholic church, built back in the 1800's. It's still active, but hardly no one goes there anymore. There's a shrine that was added on in the forties - sort of like a little chapel. It's separate, out in the back, and has an altar in it. That means the ground is consecrated, right?"

"Wait," I said, memories of my old life slowly floated by. "Up past Madison? On Route eighty-one?"

"Yeah," she replied.

"That's...that's where Bobby got married." I turned toward Sam and Dean. "St. Ann's Church. I know the shrine-chapel thing she's talking about. There's a cemetery, the whole property is lined with huge pine trees... " I swallowed back thoughts of Bobby. "It'd be perfect, if it's really available."

Dean's eyes were a little wide.

"What?" I asked.

"How'd you know where Bobby got married?"

I huffed, shaking my head a little. "Dude, come on. The man raised me while Dad kept you two on the road. I know pretty much everything about him."

At Bobby's name, Jody's whole demeanor shifted. She scooted back in her chair, swallowed a couple times, even ran a trembling hand through her hair. Before I could say anything else, she quickly got up, mumbling something about the dishwasher, and left the room.

Ohhhh... _shit_...Jody and Bobby? Mouth slightly open, I looked at Dean. "I didn't know…"

Dean shook his head, pulling on his chin. "Don't worry about it. Bigger fish. Okay, so we have the site, we have the cuffs."

"We don't have the syringes or the instructions. So we have to get them before doing anything." Sam brushed his hair back, and sighed. "Why don't we sign the deal at Bobby's? There's...stuff there in case we need it, and it won't be a long drive to the site afterwards."

Dean nodded. "Good idea." He pulled out his phone and stared at it. "I'll set it up. Be right back." He dragged himself to his feet, and stepped outside.

I sagged back against the couch, losing myself in a throbbing headache. I yelped when something cold pressed against my head. Apparently, I closed my eyes at some point.

Sam pulled back, hands up in surrender, one of them clutching an ice pack. "Thought you could use this."

I wet my lips real quick, simultaneously missing bitter cranberry juice and feeling nauseous at the thought of the dark red stuff. "Yeah...thanks," I... _croaked?_ Oy,  _that_  wasn't good.

I leaned forward as he held the ice to the back of my neck, the other hand rubbing up and down my back. "You passed out for a few minutes...why didn't you tell me your head hurt?"

Unable to stop myself, I tilted my head at him and sassed, "Probably because I was passed out for a few minutes." I was rewarded with a classic SamFace. Snickering, I closed my eyes and massaged my temples. "Bitchy McBitcherson. I love that face."

Sam breathed a laugh, ducking his head and shaking it from side to side.

Wait...something was missing. Peeling open my eyes, and I mean peeled, because I was so tired, I looked around the room. "Where's Cas?"

Sam snorted. "He excused himself and stepped out back. He's acting really weird."

I raised an eyebrow. "Controlled by Heaven weird?"

He shook his head, adjusting the ice so it was in a new spot where it felt  _sooooo_  awesome. "Mysterious weird. Evasive weird. Gonna piss Dean off weird."

"Hmmm...that's no good."

"Not even a little."

The front door opened, and in came Dean, frowning at his phone, looking like he wanted to throw it against the wall.

"So what happened?" Sam asked, taking away the ice when I sat up to hear the news. Jody walked back in the room, arms folded across her chest, face all serious.

"Well, deal's set for tomorrow, late morning. I told him Kate needed some recovery time, and if he wanted her to sign the deal, she had to be well enough to do it."

I raised an eyebrow. "He bought that?"

Dean nodded, chuckling. "Yup. I told him we wanted to do the deal at Bobby's, for our sense of, get this,  _closure_. I used the word  _closure_."

Jody made a puzzled face. "Closure for what?"

Dean gestured with his hand. "No fucking clue. But he found meaning in it, so that makes it better."

Sam took a moment, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "So we have until tomorrow, late morning, to get everything from the Bunker, get to Bobby's, and get set up."

My eyes were too heavy to keep open. So I stopped trying. They didn't need me to make the plan. I just needed to do whatever they told me to do.

"Kate…?"

Oh, hey...that's me. "Hmmm?"

"Uh...do you wanna go back to the Bunker with us?"

Oh.

That question hung there, nice and thick. Unspoken part of it:  _for the last time._  Part of me was all, hell yes, I wanna go back. Look everything over, see my room, my stuff, say goodbye  _*choke*_  to Kevin.

But then I thought...what's the point? Did I need to travel twelve hours for a complete and utter downer?

No, thank you.

"Um...no. If it's okay with Jody, I'd...I'd rather wait here."

Not only did the question hang thick in the air, my answer did as well. Thicker, actually, if that was possible.

"Oh...okay." Sam sounded disappointed. I didn't have any energy to explain.

But I did have energy to make him feel better. "I feel like shit, Sam. Don't think I can make the drive."

" _Oh_...okay." That was better.

Next thing I knew, Jody was talking to one or both of them. I must've passed back out again.

" - not bad, you're just...different."

"What's  _that_  supposed to mean?"

"Dean, she doesn't mean it as a bad thing."

"I  _know_  that, but I don't see how I'm different, that's all."

"I dunno, Dean, you guys just seem more...gentle. Caring."

"Gentle and caring? That's not me, Jody."

She laughed. "Well, it is now."

I phased out right there, resurfacing when Sam gently shook my shoulder. "Yeah…?"

"Hey...we're leaving. We'll be back as soon as we can. Hang in there, okay?"

Nodding, I went back to sleep.

**xxxxx**

If my math was correct, it should've taken them about thirteen hours to return. With Dean driving, and an anxious-ridden brother as his co-pilot, I banked on eleven hours.

But I had no fucking clue what time it was, how long they'd been gone, and sometimes, where I was.

I was getting worse, by the hour. Or minute. Or by the some time passing. Things.

Disjointed thoughts kept flashing through my head, grounded only by cool clothes and ice packs. This sort of peaceful calm settled over me. Not the fake calm I'd been walking around with for months. This was the real thing.

I had my night with Sam. I had my moment with Dean. I could say goodbye to Kevin on the phone. Jody...had no relationship to me, here, so no worries there. And Cas...was Cas. He was an angel, and I'd probably be more likely to see him again regardless.

So I was good. My other family was gone, right? They were probably dead. My Cas was probably dead. Everyone else here was dead. After Sam and Dean, there was no one and nothing. They'd have each other, they could make it with each other, and I was absolutely awesome with that.

"Hey...want some water? You need to stay hydrated." Jody crouched in front of me, holding out a glass of water, desperately trying to cajole me into drinking.

She didn't understand. "Can't swallow it. Thanks, though."

She sighed, rocking back on her heels and standing up. The urge to mother me was palpable. Jody didn't understand that, either. Never had a mother. Just a Bobby. And a Dean.

I wet my lips, making a face at how dry they were. I slowly sat up, blinking to clear the cobwebs. "They back yet?"

The words weren't fully out of my mouth when I heard Baby pull into the driveway. A small smile hit my lips. "And there they are."

They walked in, Dean's agitation expressed through his clipped tone. "I mean it, Cas. I need to know you're in. You can't...you can't just zap out of there when we need you most because someone else wanted your attention."

Ouch.

Sam sighed, and I expected him to scold Dean. Instead, "He's right, Cas. There's too much riding on this. We don't...we don't know what to expect, and we need everyone ready in case...well, just in case."

I squinted up at a very blurry Castiel, who didn't even look chastised at all. He heard the message loud and clear, agreeing with it one hundred percent. "I understand. You have my word."

Sam came over and sat down. "We're back…" I rolled my eyes. "How're you doing?"

"Peachy. How's Kevin?" Sam was blurry, too. Why's everyone...oh. Losing vision, too.

_Hooray…_

Well, even blind, I could stab Crowley in the neck.

_Watch_  me.

"He's okay. Scared and, uh, sad, but okay. We called Charlie and had her go to the Bunker and wait it out there. That way they're both safe and together."

Just in case.

I nodded, still trying to clear the cobwebs by blinking, because I was pretty sure I read somewhere that blinking does that. Or makes you think it does it.

"Kate?"

Oh hey, Dean's fuzzy around the edges.  _Nice_. "Yep, I'm here and ready to stab a bitch. Let's go."

I started getting up, and Sam's seriously large hands gently pushed me back. A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth. "Hold on a sec. we have a few things to wrap up then we'll head to Bobby's."

The guys puttered around the house, talking with Jody in the kitchen with those soft voices that adults only use when they don't want kids to hear what they're saying.

But I knew what they were saying.

Castiel sat next to me, eyes searching mine. He held up a hand.  _May I?_

_Help yourself, Champ._

He lightly touched my cheek, and I shivered as the cobwebs cleared and I was able to focus.

"Holy shit…"

He removed his hand only to clasp his together. "I will try to help you as much as possible. I sense your struggle. I'm...I'm so sorry."

I shook my head, loving how I could think clearly. "It's okay, Cas, it really is. This is bigger than me."

He sadly tilted his head to the side. "That seems to be the way with your family. Destined for great things, the prophecies predicted."

Snorting, I rolled my eyes. "I dunno about great things. My existence caused all your prophecies to implode."

"Prophecies deviate all the time. It doesn't change the essence, which is that your family is special, full of honorable, good people, who save the world with none the wiser except for a select few."

"Yeah…" That's all I had at the moment, so Cas let me be, patting the top of my head in what I suspect was an attempt at affection.

Dean and Sam came back in the room, Dean juggling his keys from hand to hand. "Okay, people, let's get going."

I gave Jody a hug, ignoring how hard she tried not to cry. The three of us climbed into the Impala, and headed to Bobby's.

**xxxxx**

I was pretty sure that dying was preferable to seeing Bobby's yard dilapidated. We parked near the house, and it took everything in me not to fall on my knees and just die right there.

Weeds overran the grounds, sprouting between cars, parts, all over the garages and the porch. Heaps of rusting metal littered the yard, lonely and abandoned for well over a year. The house itself was intact, although paint peeled from a hundred different spots, not to mention the porch was seriously in need of some care.

The porch...where I've sat with Bobby and my family for almost two decades.

Swallowing hard, I slowly exited the Impala, drinking in the sight before me, while also trying to not have this be the last image of my home.

_My real home._

I started babbling almost immediately, needing to talk in order to keep my sanity. "Months before I left, around when we found Adam, Dad and Bobby signed papers and stuff so this was officially our collective home. I guess Dad had money stashed away or maybe it was his military retirement accounts, I dunno, but he handed it over to Bobby to pay off the house." I walked towards the porch, imagining things the way they were.

The way they should be. Dean and Sam kept quiet, knowing that I needed to do this.

"I think Dad knew it wasn't fair to Bobby, you know? I had a room here because I was here so much as a kid." I pointed to the end window on the second floor. "That one, there. You guys shared one across the hall, and Adam had the really small room on the end." I glanced at them, and caught them sharing a look. They knew the rooms I was talking about. Nodding, I kept going. "When I first came here, I remember being so fucking scared." I gestured at Sam, smiling a little. "You came bouncing out of the house so fast you almost flipped over the railing."

Sam smiled back, hands in his pockets, looking dangerously close to crying. Dean shuffled his feet in the dirt, pointedly avoiding eye contact.

Sighing, I laid a hand against the porch railing, feeling the paint flake between my fingers.

"Well, well, well. This is so touching.  _Really_. If I gave a shit, I'd cry right along with you. But  _riiiiiight_ , I  _don't_  give a shit."

We all whipped around. Crowley stood not ten feet from the Impala, a scroll tucked under one arm and a smug smirk on his face. His eyes were locked onto to mine. "So, are we done strolling arm in arm down memory lane? I believe we have a deal to sign." Without shifting his gaze away from me, he grabbed the scroll and pointed it at me. "So  _you're_  the bitch who killed my bitch." He craned his neck, making a show of checking me over. "Not impressive for a Winchester."

"Still managed to kill her, though."

His lips parted, and he smiled with appreciation. He turned to Dean. "I like her already. So much like her brothers."

"Enough, Crowley. Where's the angel tablet?"

"Where's the  _demon_  tablet? Look, I'll show you mine, you show me yours, and we'll have a lovely party."

"Where's the deal? I wanna read it." Sam took a step closer to me, hands slowly leaving their pockets.

"Of course, Sam. Ever the lawyer, right?" He waved the scroll at him. "Don't forget the fine print." Crowley tossed it over, then folded his arms.

Sam deftly caught it, untied the blood red ribbon, and almost gasped when the parchment unrolled, and kept unrolling, until it hit the ground. He glared at Crowley, who just shrugged back. "What? A boy needs to dot his I's."

Dean walked over, sparing an ugly look at Crowley before holding part of the paper and reading alongside Sam. I just stood there, knowing that I couldn't focus on the words enough for them to make sense.

After a couple minutes, Sam's face wrinkled up. "What is it, Sammy?" Dean asked.

Sam pointed to something on the paper, and whispered in Dean's ear. Dean nodded back, his eyebrows raising. Crowley unfolded his arms. " _What?_ "

Dean's eyes flickered to him. "Hold on."

Crowley rolled his eyes and huffed back, shifting his weight to his other foot, looking impatient and not at all smug.

Sam jabbed a finger at the paper again, whispering to Dean. "Alright. Enough of that. What's the problem?" Crowley snapped.

Dean and Sam shared a look. Sam shrugged, handing Dean the scroll, putting his hands back in his pockets. Dean dragged a hand down his face, wet his lips and walked over to Crowley, who already had his hands outstretched to take the parchment. "It's this clause right here…where it says you're one dumb motherfucker." Dean snapped the spell-woven cuffs on Crowley's wrists, stepping back and pulling the demon knife from his waistband.

The parchment fluttered to the ground. Crowley stared at the cuffs with disdain. "Really? Dimestore handcuffs? That's so...be _neath_  you. I - " He pulled and tugged, frowning when he was unable to break free. He shot a murderous look at Dean. "What is this?"

Sam sauntered up, hands free and ready. "Those cuffs are carved with all sorts of magic, Crowley. Not to mention four types of Devil's traps. Strong enough for the King of Hell."

Crowley spat, "You'll never hold me. I'll have a hundred demons here within the minute."

On cue, Castiel appeared, slapping a large piece of duct tape across Crowley's mouth, a Devil's Trap drawn on it with a red Sharpie. "And I'll have a hundred angels here the second after. No, I think it's time for you to just shut up, and let Dean give you your medicine."

We all blinked at him. Even Crowley looked confused.

Cas stared back. "What? Isn't that the saying?"

Dean shook his head. "Close enough, man. Close enough."


	30. Chapter 30

_**Kate…** _

The little chapel out back was definitely perfect. Not too big, far enough away from the main church, under lots of natural cover and on consecrated ground.

A nice little spot for a wedding, a picnic, or closing the gates of Hell.

Dean strapped (tied, chained,  _whatever_ ) Crowley to a chair in the middle of a huge Devil's Trap, carefully painted by Sam. I told him he should autograph it in the corner.

I got an eye roll and a snort in reply.

(But he did Sharpie his initials off to the side when he thought I wasn't looking.)

There was no confessional anywhere. I was hoping there'd be a stereotypical box I could hide in for a bit, but no such luck. The altar sat in the front, like a therapist's couch, just waiting for me to have a seat and spill my guts.

Whatever Castiel did to keep me lucid was working...for the most part. But I could feel some things slipping away, and it was getting more difficult and more painful by the minute, so I guessed the effects weren't terribly long lasting.

I slowly walked around the chapel, my eyes drawn to the stained glass windows that flanked the length of the room. So many characters, all devoted to a God they'd never seen. Each picture had a story, full of trial and tribulation, not much different than mine.

What would  _my_  stained glass window look like? Five larger-than-life men, all standing around a sleek, black car, a winding road behind them, Bobby's yard in a corner. Intense stares, hidden messages, lore and myth embedded along the edges.

Where was my place among them? After that cursed contagion, Cas convinced me that my presence was a positive influence on them. I believed him.

I did.

But that was before I met Uriel. Before I arrived here, disrupting their lives, causing the others to be in danger back home. Before I got an angel in trouble and upset all of Heaven.

An unnecessary danger, from an unnecessary existence.

I swore that scene was etched in one of the windows, sunlight streaming through the Impala, casting a rainbow of colors on the floor. The more I stared, the more I saw it. The more I saw it, the more I knew.

_I didn't belong._

A loud bang made me jump. Turning around, I saw Sam had placed the bag of supplies onto the altar. Glancing at the others, I noted I was the only one who thought the sound was deafening. Passing a hand over my mouth, I walked closer.

Sam sighed deeply. "So...I can set all this up. We just, um..."

"Time to fess up, sis," Dean called out. He was going for levity, but the effort sank to the floor like lead in a pool.

Crowley made some noises, wriggling in his seat. He was still gagged with duct tape and had a sack cloth over his head. Dean strode over and cuffed him. "Shut up. This doesn't concern you."

Biting my lip, I looked around. "I'm going into the main church. I can't do a confession with an audience. "

Sam nodded in understanding, while Dean tried to not look disappointed that I wasn't gonna share my secrets with the class. I shook a finger at Cas. "No eavesdropping!"

His head retreated and he actually looked a little shocked. "Confession is a private act, Kate. I wouldn't - "

"I think loud, Cas. I know I do, and I know that since confession is a form of prayer, you could pick up on it easily." I shuffled out of the chapel, calling over my shoulder. "So just don't."

The door clicked shut behind me, almost metaphorically, and I continued to the church alone. I hugged myself for warmth, unaware of what the actual temperature was. My entire perception of the world around me was so skewed, I couldn't trust myself to tell what was real. There was a sense that I wasn't quite all there - thoughts were jumbling together, bordering on irrational and illogical.

But I didn't care.

I was dying today. Technically, okay, the tablet didn't say "Ye who completes this Trial shall perish".

But,  _come on_.

Third degree burns on all my organs? That's just not something one should walk away from.

In any case, jumbled thoughts were the least of my worries. As long as that fucking needle made it to Crowley's neck nine times, and I was still able to speak the spell, it was good.

I crossed the grounds and entered the church, the door creaking as it opened. Vaulted ceilings arched overhead, connected by panels of pictures painted directly on the walls. I spotted the confessional box right away - it was exactly where I remembered. I turned slightly to the left, and saw Bobby standing next to me, pointing at it.

"That's where Karen made me sit and spill all my dirty secrets to the priest. It wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be, actually. Felt...pretty good when I was done. Like a weight'd been lifted." He shrugged and fiddled with his cap, giving me one of his looks. "It'll be okay, Missy. You've been thinkin' hard on this, like you always do. You know what you need to say to get this job done." He nodded at me. "So, go on. Tell the truth, and it'll all be fine."

"Okay…" I whispered back. One blink, and he was gone, leaving me alone and cold, staring at the tall wooden box.

Jumbled thoughts bordering on illogical and irrational.

_Huh._

Brushing hair off my face, I cleared the blood from my throat, and stepped inside.

**xxxxx**

_**Not Kate…** _

As soon as the door shut behind her, Dean turned to Sam. "She seem okay to you?"

Sam shook his head, worry evident in his eyes. "No...not even close. She seemed alright earlier, but now...something's off." He started unpacking the supplies, laying them gently on the altar.

Cas sighed deeply. "Her mind is slipping. She's in a lot of pain, and the effects of the trials are spreading faster. I've tried helping her focus, and it worked, but only for a limited time. I'm afraid there isn't much more I can do. Until she completes the trial, we won't know how to help her."

The words lingered a moment, as if waiting for someone to respond. Sam swallowed heavily. "I, uh, left some stuff in the car. Be right back." He threw the now empty duffel across the room, sullenly stomping outside.

Dean and Cas watched him leave, sighing in unison when the door slammed shut. Dean ran a hand down his face. "I'm gonna check on him," he mumbled. "Keep an eye on that one," he added, pointing at Crowley, just before following Sam to the car.

Dean knew damn well there was nothing left the Impala, so he wasn't surprised to find his brother scrunched in the backseat, head against the leather, arms folded across his chest. He paused a second, fingers on the door handle, willing himself to have something big brothery to say, when he himself needed to hear such words from someone.

He crammed himself next to Sam, gently closing the door and running his hand along the window frame.

"Hey…"

Sam's eyes flickered to his brother before returning to a captivating spot on the roof. He didn't answer right away, which was one sure sign of an Upset Sammy.

"You okay?"

Sam tucked his hair behind an ear.

Sign number two.

"Sam…"

"I don't think I can do this."

Dean blinked at him. "Do what?"

"Watch her die."

Dean let out a breath and sagged against the seat. "We don't know what'll happen, Sam."

Sam snorted. "We've known it  _could_  happen...this whole time. And I was trying to stay positive, even though she got worse and worse. But now that we're here…  _*sigh*_  Every time I lost you, you came back.  _Every time!_  Some days, I can't even believe my luck. But  _this_...this is the Word of God, Dean. It'll require her sacrifice, and it'll be permanent, or the spell won't work."

He shook his head, hair spilling onto his face, and Dean's heart broke when he noticed Sam shaking.

"I'm tired of watching the people I love die." His voice broke. "And I feel like such a bastard, because deep, deep down? I'm glad it isn't you." Sam angrily swiped at his face, smearing tear tracks across his cheeks.

Dean stared at his knees, nodding along with Sam's words, feeling his own eyes prickle.

"Telling myself it's for a greater good, or that locking up Hell is worth it? I don't know that it is anymore. And that makes me feel even worse, because I'm willing to allow the deaths of hundreds of innocent people, for my own selfish reasons." He barks a laugh laced with sobs. "I'm really just as bad as - "

"Alright, that's enough." Dean raised his head, leveling a gaze right at Sam, who was shaking his head, like Dean didn't get it. "Seriously, Sam - knock it off. You're not a bad person, you're not an asshole, you're human. You're a human who's given more than anyone should've, and you have a right to be sick of it."

"You've given enough, too."

Dean snorted back. "We've  _both_  given enough, and  _neither_  of us deserve to watch her do this. If we're being honest here? I've also been...been glad that it isn't you going through these trials. And you know what? She  _knows_  that. She knows we're thinking it, she  _knows_  how we work, and  _that's_  why she's doing it.  _For us_. We're not gonna piss on that. It isn't fair to her."

Dean reached out, burying his fingers in Sam's hair at the base of his neck. " _C'mon_ , Sammy. We're gonna slam the door on all those sonsofbitches,  _with_  her, and we're gonna make her proud. Then we'll deal with whatever happens afterwards. I already told her that I'm not in favor of her dying. We'll deal, like we always do.  _Together_. Okay?"

He squeezed Sam's neck, massaging until he felt Sam loosen up. They both took a long shuddering breath, then he pulled Sam close, and let them both cry.

**xxxxx**

_**Kate…** _

I left the confessional, agreeing wholeheartedly with Imaginary Bobby. I felt a lot better. I just unloaded onto God or whoever the fuck was listening, confessing my sins, hoping it was enough to make the spell work.

Knowing deep down that it totally was.

I made my way back to the chapel, stopping when I saw the boys climbing out of the Impala, red faced and splotchy cheeked.

_Fuck_.

Hanging back, I gave them a minute. It wasn't easy.

But I knew why they were upset, and there was no fixing it.

As soon as they leaned against the car, shoulder to shoulder, I broke cover, slowly walking towards them.

Dean cleared his throat. "All set?" I nodded, pretending not to notice him wiping his cheek on his shoulder, while Sam used his sleeve to dry his eyes.

I stopped in front of them, and we stood there. The three of us, all with arms folded and clenched jaws, cheek muscles twitching and eyes welling up again. Sam kept his head bowed, eyes on the ground. I stared at the clouds passing overhead. Dean's head was turned, facing the trees.

No one spoke.

No one moved.

The door to the chapel opened, and Castiel's tentative voice called out, "Everything...okay?"

It was like a bucket of ice water splashed over us. The distraction we needed, the reminder we dreaded.

Our eyes locked.

My gaze bounced between them as I called over my shoulder, "Everything's fine." In a softer voice, "Everything's gonna be fine." The corner of my mouth twitched upward. I took one step back, then another, before turning and heading inside. I was vaguely aware of them following me.

They'd see when this was over.

They'd see.

**xxxxx**

_**Not Kate…** _

Everything was laid out on the altar, just like Thanksgiving dinner, Dean thought. They all lined up, surveying the equipment, Crowley squirming in his chair behind them.

Several hypodermic needles were lined up on a cloth, and the sight made Kate laugh.

A little hysterically.

"...Kate?" Dean asked, more than a little hesitation in his voice.

Between chuckles and gulping for air, she managed to gasp, "Why so many needles? Afraid I'll get sick from using only one?"

Dean's mouth opened, then closed.  _Jesus Christ._  A smile spread across his face, and he ducked his head, shaking it back and forth. "You're something else, you know that?"

" _Hoooo_...yeah, I'm something else, alright." Dean couldn't help but notice a slightly wild look in her eyes. He caught a glimpse of Sam frowning at her, and he knew he wasn't the only one who noticed.

While Sam helped her out of her sweatshirt, Dean tugged on Cas's coat sleeve, pulling the angel into a corner of the room. "You getting all that?" he asked, nodding at her.

Cas sighed. "Like I said, her mind is slipping. She completed the purification rite, and I'm sensing confidence in her. She fully believes in her ability to be successful. I don't want to interfere with that unless I have to."

Dean nodded, pulling on his chin. "Yeah, okay. Just...gimme a sign if she starts going off the rails."

Cas tilted his head, not quite understanding the reference, but grasping the meaning. "Understood."

Kate rolled up the sleeves of her shirt, shivering without the warmth of her hoodie. "Okay. Let's do this."

Sam blew out a breath and tied the tourniquet in place, tapping the blood vessels that were starting to swell in her arm. She looked up at Sam.  _Go ahead…_

Sighing, he shifted his stance, eyes flickering to Dean who nodded at him. "Okay. On three. One...two... _three_." The needle slid right in, and Sam began drawing blood into the attached vial.

Once the right amount had been drawn, he carefully extracted the needle, and Dean pressed a couple cotton balls to the piercing site.

Sam gently placed it on the altar, thinking  _Holyfuckingshit, that's a lot of blood_. He thrust his hands in his hair and took a couple steps back, feeling sick to his stomach.

Dean kept his hand on Kate's arm, running his thumb back and forth on her skin.

She gave no indication that she felt it.

Turning away from him, she picked up the needle and faced Crowley, her movement causing Dean to let go and step away.

After a quick nod at Castiel, he yanked the cloth off Crowley's head. The demon's hair stuck out a bit in every direction from static, and he furiously blinked his eyes in a weak attempt at clearing his vision. He craned his neck this way and that, trying to see everything around him. As soon as he spied her, poised with a needle, his eyes narrowed dangerously, muffled grunts coming from his throat as he tried to talk around the tape.

Slowly, Kate stepped into the Devil's Trap, maintaining eye contact with Crowley. She narrowed her eyes in response, standing right next to him, bending down so her mouth was level with his ear. Dean found himself holding his breath, waiting to see what she'd do.

In a low voice, that seemed to carry throughout the chapel, she asked, "You know why you're here, right?"

Crowley's eyes flickered to the boys, and she snapped her fingers in his face. Sam's eyebrows rose. "They weren't talking to you.  _I am._ " He returned her look with one that said  _If I get free, you're dying spectacularly_.

Kate snorted, as if she didn't give a shit.

He nodded his answer stiffly, his look shifting to one of calculation, as he tried to figure her out.

She nodded back. "The third trial requires me to cure you." He raised an eyebrow. "I know. I have my doubts as well. But that's the trial. So this…" She waggled the needle in his face. "Is going in you, nine times." His eyes got even wider. "If this works, you're probably going to thank me. If it fails, I'm gonna stab you in the throat, and send you to oblivion, permanently." Sam shifted uncomfortably behind her, not liking her speech in any way.

She ignored him. "I'm guessing you have no remorse over anything you've ever done, so I'm not gonna bother asking before - "

Without any warning, she jabbed the needle into his neck, injecting it all into his bloodstream. Dean actually jumped from the unexpected movement, brutal and fierce.

The cords on Crowley's neck bulged, as he strained to break free, yelling probably very unkind things into the tape. Kate yanked the needle out, stepped back, and handed it to Dean with a shaky hand. The blood loss was hitting her. She closed her eyes and swayed a little. Sam reached out to steady her, helping her lean against the altar. She coughed that hideous body-wracking cough into her arm.

Twisting to the side, Kate spit blood onto the floor. After wiping her mouth, she looked at Sam and shrugged. "Eight more to go…"

**xxxxx**

_**Kate…** _

Some hunts involve boring bits, like stakeouts in the middle of winter, or monotonous research in a stuffy library.

This hunt required a lot of waiting around doing absolutely nothing. We had nothing to watch, nothing to read, nothing to work through, think about, noodle over, nada. Sam pulled blood from my arms, I shot it in Crowley's neck, he glowered.

Rinse, repeat.

Eventually, though, Crowley's objections faltered, and he became more...willing. At the sixth or seventh injection, Dean removed the tape from Crowley's mouth, so we could understand him and determine whether this was working.

It totally was.

We learned about his mother, being abandoned, some of the hideous things he'd done, and most of all, he pondered over whether he had the right to be loved.

Apparently, the therapist couch shaped as an altar wasn't just for me.

The closer we got to the final injection, the more squirrely my brothers became. I was too cold and too tired and too full of pain to do much more than sit there, almost in a stupor. But I could sense it.

They were probably afraid I wouldn't finish, that we came this far, and everything would fail at the last minute.

But I was definitely going to finish. I had no doubt about that.

**xxxxx**

_**Not Kate…** _

Dean checked his watch - barely fifteen minutes left until the final injection. Fifteen minutes, and they'd know whether Crowley was "cured", whether Hell slammed shut, whether their sister will die.

As the hours passed, Kate became more... _comfortable_...which  _really_  didn't sit well with Dean.

At all.

It was a tad too close to  _resigned_ , and last Dean checked, Winchesters didn't resign to  _anything_.

More disturbing, she turned inward, acknowledging her brothers less and less, keeping to herself, something Dean knew to be the exact opposite of his sister, who normally craved physical closeness with them.

The more quiet Kate got, the more squirmy Sam became. Jumping at sounds, pacing, fingers in his hair so much it practically stood up on its own. He kept shooting worried looks at Dean, knowing they couldn't stop, wishing they could, afraid of when they did. Sam almost begged Dean to stop the trial several times, but instead bit his tongue and resumed pacing.

Dean shared all of Sam's anxiety, but projected as much calm as possible, for both their sakes.

Cas gave no indication that his mojo was needed to keep Kate on track. Accepting the angel's assessment, Dean just kept his eye on her, making sure she was really okay.

At least on the outside.

Sam had just completed another round of pacing, when Kate started muttering to herself. Dean leaned forward, scratching his ear. "What's that?"

Her eyes swiveled toward his. "Almost time," she whispered. "Gonna finish this. Gonna make things right."

Something in her voice set off every big brother alarm Dean had. Sam's went off as well, but Cas beat them to the question.

"What do you mean, Kate?" he asked softly, taking a seat nearby, watching her closely.

She took a ragged breath, eyes on her arms which were pockmarked with needle pricks and bruises. "I made the mess, I gotta clean it up. You told me...you told me I'm not supposed to exist. This'll fix that."

_Whoa_.

Cas glanced sideways at Dean, who was on his feet in an instant.

"Kate, nothing needs to be fixed. You're just closing Hell."

She shook her head emphatically. "No...no, you don't understand. I'm not supposed to be here.  _Any_ where. Messed everything up. I put people in danger just by  _being_. This sacrifice makes things right. I know that, now. Bobby told me. He agreed with me. I don't belong."

Oh,  _shit_.

Sam's eyes couldn't get any wider. Even Crowley came out of his blood stupor to give her a quizzical look. Dean moved in, pushing past Cas and crouching in front of her. "Hey...lookit me."

She did, and whatever she saw made her immediately jump up, shaking her head and knocking her chair backwards. "Nonono...don't do that. Don't look at me like I'm crazy. Fuck that. I know what I'm saying. I know I'm right. I got purified. My confession cleaned me. I'm the sacrifice that'll close the gates. It's the only way to fix it."

Dean stood as well, noting that Sam was flanking her. "Kate - we don't know what'll happen, remember? The sacrifice talk? We're making assumptions, there."

A raspy, grating bark slid past her lips. " _Bullshit_. I know I'm going to die. It's the only way."

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but never got the chance.

"You might not, you know."

Everyone whipped around - Crowley straining to see over his shoulder. There in the doorway, stood a short, frumpy, middle aged man, hair all over, wearing a cardigan and baggy pants.

He held up his hands in mock surrender, and continued. "I mean, that's the mystery of it, really. But  _I_  would say that you don't  _have_  to die in order to complete the trial."

Cas moved between Kate and the strange man. When he asked, "What are  _you_  doing here?"

Dean also asked, "Who the fuck are  _you_?"

Sam held up a hand. "Wait - Cas, do you know him?"

Castiel, eyes trained on the newcomer, stiffened slightly. "Yes, I do. He's an angel."

That didn't relax the atmosphere at all.

Dean ground out, "What do you want?"

The angel shrugged his shoulders, lowering his arms to his side. "I'm just here to help - I promise! I did, after all, write those trials."

Sam's jaw dropped. "You're...you're the  _Scribe?_ "

He nodded, a modest smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. "So, you've heard of me!" He beamed with pride, looking like a kid who just won a spelling bee.

Cas took another step closer. "Metatron - why are you here?"

Dean was puzzled. "Metatron? The Transformer?"

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose in embarrassment. "No, Dean, that's  _Mega_ tron.  _This_  is  _Meta_ tron, the Scribe of God."

**xxxxx**

_**Kate…** _

Feeling like I was watching a ping pong match, I kept tracking each speaker, trying to focus through the haze and follow what they were saying. I could feel the  _Kate Has Lost Her Marbles_  vibe in the room, and while the distraction was welcomed, it was also incredibly unnerving.

Why would the Scribe of God visit  _now?_  Did I do something wrong?

And what the fuck did he mean when he said I may not die? I had to die...that was the only way...

"I can answer those questions, if you want," he said smugly, waving a hand at me. "I can sense your thoughts very clearly, since you're resonating with  _The Word._ " Wow - he used air quotes on his own writing.

"What question, and stop reading her thoughts," Dean growled in a low voice.

Metatron shrugged. "I can't help it. She's so far along in the trials that she's in sync with me. I can see everything going on in there and... _hoo_... _that's_  a little bit of a mess. Anyway, she wants to know what I meant when I said she may not die. The trials ultimately do require a sacrifice, but that's really a gray area."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Sam demanded.

Metatron sighed, almost dramatically. "It's so easy to assume that a sacrifice means death. You humans have butchered the true meaning of the word throughout the centuries. In reality, the  _real_  sacrifice is the willingness to do the deed without knowing the outcome. Think about it. What's the one thing God requires from you? From anyone?"

I could almost see the light bulb blink to life above Sam's head. " _Faith_. He requires faith."

Metatron nodded enthusiastically, like a pleased teacher, hands gesturing as he spoke. "Exactly!  _Faith!_ You're completing the trials because it's what you want to do, regardless of the outcome. You're going off of  _faith_ that it'll work, and  _faith_ that you'll be okay when it's over, regardless of what happens. That doesn't necessarily mean you'll die. The ending to this story's not yet written, Kate. You can't assume anything."

"So wait," Sam started, his voice overly eager and hopeful. "You mean...she could  _survive_  this?" Metatron nodded, still smiling. "But,  _how?_  Cas said her organs are...are burned, that there's so much damage he doesn't think he can heal her."

Metatron winked (in this really creepy way), nodding knowingly. He held up a finger. "This is true. The trials do cause a certain amount of...damage. It's part of their drama.  _But_  - I'm not an ordinary angel. I'm kinda like an archangel, kinda above a regular angel. I'm hard to classify, really. Like the archangels, I have special powers, if you will, to help her in ways Cas can't. That's why I'm here.  _To help you._ She's very close, gentlemen. You should really let her finish."

_Okay_  - hold the phone. " _What?_  Why wouldn't they let me finish?" I looked wildly between Sam and Dean, trying to suss out whether they were going to stop me. "What's he talking about?"

Sam, noticing the switch in attitude, calmly shook his head. "Nothing, okay? It was nothing."

If it was nothing, why'd Metatron mention it? I was about to shove that little nugget down Sam's throat when we were interrupted  _again_.

"I wouldn't listen to him if I were you."

A pretty blonde woman blinked into sight at the front of the church. She wore a plain, gray suit, her hair pulled into a bun, her features grim. Crowley perked up at the sound of her voice.

Metatron rolled his eyes. "Of course you'd say that, Naomi. You don't like  _anyone_  who had a real relationship with Father."

Naomi rolled her eyes back at him. "You didn't have a  _relationship_ , Metatron. You were a transcription service. Nothing more."

Cas straightened, adopting a defensive stance, sliding an angel blade into his hand. Dean held up a hand. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!  _Cas?_   _This_ is Naomi? As in,  _Fucked With Your Head_  Naomi?"

Cas nodded, his lips pressed together.

Dean pulled his gun and stood next to him. "You got some nerve coming here, you bitch."

Naomi tried to look shocked. "Dean - there's no reason for such animosity."

"You tried to come between me and my family. That's  _plenty_  of reason for animosity."

_Shit_ , there was too much going on, and it was getting increasingly difficult to follow. The resonating Metatron talked about turned out to be a loud ringing noise that filled my head to the point of being painful.

Because I needed something else to be painful.

It did, however, cut through some of the fuzziness, and I found myself blinking at the words I spewed just seconds ago, wondering at the desperation that didn't seem so prevalent at the moment. Maybe Metatron  _was_ helping…?

Naomi clucked her tongue, taking a step closer, prompting both Cas and Dean to raise their weapons, and for Sam to draw his. She froze, holding up her hands, which was a nice gesture considering she knew damn well the bullets wouldn't hurt her. "I'm sorry if my attempts to help Castiel were misunderstood as being...hostile. I was simply trying to bring him in,  _with_  the angel tablet, so we could keep it safe, keep  _him_ safe, and not in the hands of…" She threw a nasty look at Crowley. "...unworthy beings."

Crowley chuckled, his chains rattling as he moved. "Oh, Naomi, I've so missed you."

Naomi's jaw clenched, but she otherwise ignored him. She turned to me. "Kate...while I'd love for Hell to be closed forever, believe me, you need to understand something. Metatron is lying. If you complete this trial, you will most certainly die. And more than that, your soul will go to Hell, not Heaven."

"What?!" Sam whispered, eyes darting from Metatron to Naomi. Dean even faltered a little.

Metatron simply shook his head sadly. "Really, Naomi? That's the best you have? This girl locks away Hell, and her reward is to be trapped there forever with the souls she just damned for eternity? Father wouldn't do that, and you know it."

She angrily spun on him. " _You know_  that's the truth! The  _real_  sacrifice is death and eternal damnation...being willing to do that, for all of mankind and Heaven. That was always the intention. If Father's going to require a sacrifice, he's going to require  _a sacrifice_."

She paused, sneering at him. "You've been a petty, selfish angel from the very beginning! Prattling on about your supposed  _relationship_ with Father, touting an importance that no one else sees. This trial is part of a plot against Heaven!  _That's_ why you want them to succeed! I'm not sure exactly what you're planning, but I know you're up to something! I won't stand by and let you lash out against us. You're no better than...than Lucifer!" Naomi's voice rose in pitch, sounding a little hysterical by the time she finished, a thick strand of hair coming loose and flying around her face. She hastily swiped it to the side in a huff, her cheeks flushed and breaths coming fast.

Nonplussed, Metatron shook his head, studying his nails and muttering, "I believe you orchestrated the situation so she started the trials in the first place."

"You're right - we did. And the plan was fine, until I learned of your intentions to attack Heaven."

Sam growled, "There was nothing  _fine_ about that plan." Naomi's face tightened.

Metatron shrugged, continuing. "I  _wrote_ those trials. I  _know_ Father's intentions. No one else does. I can heal her. She can finish the trial and still live a wonderful life."

"Don't listen to him! He's lying!" Naomi's hands balled into fists at her side, clenching and unclenching as she fought to control her anger.

Chuckling, Metatron kept going, sensing, as we all did, how close she was to coming completely unglued. "At least I'm not the one who made Castiel kill his best friend in cold blood hundreds of times."

_Ohhhhhh, fuck._

Dean's gun lowered a little. "Excuse me?" He flashed Cas a look. "Cas? What's he talking about?"

Cas managed to blush, swallowing uncomfortably. "Part of Naomi's plan to bring me in, was to distance me from you."

All emotion wiped from Dean's face, except his eyes, which were flat and hostile. The gun came back up, leveled right at her heart. "Not helpin' your case, lady."

The accusations and bickering went back and forth, becoming white noise in my head. I happened to glance down at Crowley, who was watching me intently. I raised an eyebrow. He barely gestured with his head, beckoning me closer.

After a quick scan of the room, and noting that everyone was too busy yelling at each other, I walked over, bending slightly. Crowley swallowed and nodded at me. "She's lying. I don't know about which part, but she's lying about something."

My head snapped up to study her, and that's when I realized she had stopped ranting, and was watching  _me_. Her tone sharpened. "What's he saying to you?"

Crowley chuckled over his shoulder at her. "Love, you forget that we spent a year together way back when. I know your tells. You're lying."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you," Metatron shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Apparently, that was the final straw. Naomi let out an indignant shriek, waving her arm, making Crowley's head snap back, a tortured scream bubbling from his mouth. I stumbled back a step in shock, thinking  _don't kill him!_  Going for Crowley erased everyone's restraint. All three angels went at it, and in the middle of it all, Dean and Sam went flying, hitting the wall with such force that I swore I heard something crack.

They slid to the floor, unconscious, a trickle of blood dripping down Sam's face, Dean's leg twisted horribly.

Oh, God, No!  _Nonononono!_

I was about to run to Sam's side when I heard a soft, "Kate…" Turning, Crowley blinked at me, panting from whatever Naomi did to him. He wet his lips and tilted his head, exposing his neck.

I swear time slowed down, giving me a minute to process.

Did it matter whether Metatron could heal me? Did it matter if I died? Did it matter if I died and went to Hell?

_No_ \- it didn't. Hell needed to be shut down. That was our original intent. Lock 'em all up. Forever. That's what started this, that's what will finish it. We knew the risks. We kept going because that's what Sam and Dean wanted... _needed_...done.

If I stopped now, it wouldn't be fair to them. Everything we went through, everything I did... _for them_...would be wasted. It wasn't fair.

The rest just...didn't matter.

With a short nod, I rammed the needle into Crowley's neck, pumping the last syringe into his body. Without pause, I snatched an angel blade off the altar and sliced open my palm, detachedly watching my blood splash to the floor. I moved so fast, I didn't stop to think about how deep I was cutting.

Like that mattered, either.

My eyes locked with Crowley, the room shrinking to just me and him. He nodded, a small smile on his lips. He was ready.

_Do it._

_Please._

In a low voice, I quickly spoke the exorcism. " _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus...hanc animam redintegra...lustra! Lustra!"_

I heard Naomi scream, "No!"

Well, that cemented that.

I clamped my hand over Crowley's mouth, watching bright white light shoot out of his eyes, nose, and ears. My arm glowed a brilliant orange, veins bulging and pulsing painfully. Spots danced before my eyes, and it took everything in me to keep my hand in place, until the light died down, and Crowley was left panting in his chair.

Stumbling back, I hit the altar and slid to the floor. My whole body should be glowing orange, given the level of agony I was feeling.

Everyone froze as the reality of what just happened slapped them in the face. I heard one of my brothers groan, some fabric rustling, Sam calling Dean's name in that  _I'm hurt and worried about you_  voice. Cas was in front of me, speaking my name, my face between his hands.

I couldn't explain that blinking took serious effort, so I just stared at him, my head listing to the side as keeping upright joined the list of things I couldn't really do.

Behind him, Crowley quietly sobbed in his chair, thanking me, apologizing, mumbling all sorts of shit that wasn't very...Crowley-like.

Which meant... _ohhhh_...it... _worked?_  The curing part? But...what about the trial part?

As if answering my question, the ground shuddered, rattling the windows, knocking over chairs, including Crowley, and sending anyone standing to the floor.

From outside came a faint wailing noise, which increased in volume along with a loud roar that succeeded in smashing the windows, sending glass shards everywhere.

And then... _nothing_.

Complete and utter silence.

Looking around the room, I saw that Naomi had left, leaving Metatron dusting off his pants, a curious smile on his lips. From the corner of my eye, I could see Sam stumbling towards me, Dean waving him on, unable to move because of his leg.

Okay... _okay_ , this isn't so bad. I mean, it hurt, but now was the time for Metatron to step in. Assuming he was telling the truth, that is.

I felt something trickle down my face. Castiel's face froze, and his hand gently wiped away blood that was apparently escaping from my nose. I choked, as blood filled my mouth, and an unholy pain seared through me, making me cry out and double over. The room spun, my eyes clamped shut.

Sam was there, Cas was yelling for Metatron, and everything went dark.


	31. Chapter 31

I sat on the hood of the Impala, savoring an ice cold beer and watching the sun shine over Bobby's house. I hadn't had a drink in months, and this bottle of brew tasted particularly yummy. I stretched out, crossing my legs at the ankles, marveling at how nice it was not to feel like complete and utter shit. It'd been so long, I almost forgot what it felt like to think clearly, move freely, and consume booze at will.

Maybe someone slipped me a roofie to make me feel so relaxed and peaceful, because I didn't even flinch when a young man appeared out of nowhere, hopping up next to me on the trunk and helping himself to a beer.

The atmosphere was cordial, so I didn't think anything of it. We just sat there, drinking, watching the world wake up.

When we'd both drained our bottles, I figured it was time to quit lollygagging and get my shit together.

This was pleasant, but it wasn't _right_.

"So," I said, popping the cap off a second bottle and handing it over. "Let's start with the basics, shall we?" I got my second bottle ready and leaned back, waiting.

After a particularly long pull, he brought a fist to his mouth, belched, then sighed. "Do you know who I am?"

I shook my head, bottle in mouth. _If I knew..._

"Then let's start there. I'm an angel. My name is Michael. Does that help?"

I blinked. _Huh_. Nothing surprised me anymore. "Yeah, yeah it does. We've...met."

He huffed. "Well, _you_ may have met _me_ , but _I've_ never met _you_."

"We only met twice...different realities. But the second one...it packed a punch." I lightly grazed my cheek with my finger, tracing the scars left by Lucifer. "Where am I?"

Michael gestured towards Bobby's house with his bottle. "You're home, back in your own reality."

"Really? So...what...I _died?_ "

He nodded. "Yup, you sure did. Your death was the only way the spell could've been broken. Without a life force to draw from, the curse ended and voila - you came back."

I tried to process all this. "Okay, so... _okay_. I'm dead, and back home. That's... _okay_. And if I'm talking to _you_ , that must mean - "

"Whoa, whoa, _whoa_ , there. Hold on. You're not dead."

"What do you mean I'm not dead? You just said - "

"I said you _died_. As in, _past_ tense. I never said you were _dead_ , _present_ tense."

Fucking angels.

"Michael…" I began, in a low, warning tone.

"Alright, listen. You died in that last reality. Your death ended the curse, kicked you back here, alive, as if it were just another phase in the spell. Now…" He paused for a drink, eyeing me over the neck of the bottle. "I don't know what the hell happened to you over there, but your body is a _wreck_. And that kind of damage…" His voice trailed off and he shrugged, turning away to watch the trees sway in the breeze. "Let's just say it screams _Biblical_."

I kept my voice neutral. "Meaning, what?"

Michael shrugged again. "Meaning my Father had a hand in whatever happened to you. Maybe not directly, but somehow. That sort of shit crosses dimensions, since _He_ crosses dimensions. _I_ can't even fully heal you. You'll heal, but it'll be a while before you're back to normal." He took another drink. "But hey, you aren't dying, so...you know. _Huzzah_." He mock-cheered in this falsetto voice, waving his fingers in the air like it was something to celebrate.

We sat in silence as I digested the news. Died, not dead, hurt, but getting better.

_Home_.

...Not _there_. With _them_.

I started peeling the label off my bottle when I super casually asked, "So...what happened in that reality after I left?"

Michael's mouth made a loud sucking-popping noise as he pulled it off the bottle. "Dunno. I never went there, never saw, never knew. Even Castiel couldn't figure out what you were up to when he rescued you in Hell."

"He's alive?"

"Oh, yeah. A little singed, a little weak, but alive. Trips into perdition don't make for an easy recovery."

That was an opening. I knew he was waiting for an explanation, but I wasn't sure I wanted him to know. What if we could complete the trials here, and close the gates? Would he try and stop us? Then again, angels could lurk and spy any time they wanted to, and we'd never know. So he'd find out eventually.

Screwed no matter which way I went.

Like I wasn't used to _that_.

So...I explained everything - the tablets, the trials, the Scribe, the whole enchilada. We moved onto our third beer while I talked.

When I finished, he nodded thoughtfully, scratching his head, face all wrinkled up in thought. "Well...wow. That's... _wow_. Okay, so let me say this. There are tablets here, but they aren't the same tablets as in that other reality. I almost wish they were, but they aren't. Why tell you this? Because I don't want you spending the rest of your life hunting them down. As for Metatron, he _was_ the Scribe, but he died eons ago, shortly after creating the tablets. Dumb bastard got a little cocky with Lucifer one day and...yeah. No more Metatron. Dad was so pissed. Anyway, the only Naomi in Heaven is this mousy little brunette in receiving. She isn't a high ranking angel by any means."

_Huh_.

He nudged me with his shoulder. "Is this weird for you?"

I snorted. "No weirder than, I dunno, being pregnant with my dad's child, or living in a reality where I never existed for about two years."

He had the decency to wince. We clanked bottles. "Point taken."

We drank for a bit, until I had to ask. "Seriously, though, what is Uriel's problem with me? Did I screw up Heaven's plans that badly? Am I that awful an existence? I know I wasn't supposed to be here, but…"

Michael sighed deeply. "Angels are supposed to watch over humans. Protect and care for them. Lucifer couldn't accept that, and apparently, Uriel can't either. Originally, you know, we weren't supposed to interfere with your lives. We just watched. Once my brother picked the apple...well. Some angels got tangled up in the lives of humans, for good and bad reasons, with good and bad results. We couldn't help it - you're so interesting. Where demons have a purpose to inflict suffering, angels want life and prosperity. We want Father's will. It's just that sometimes...we forget that there is a limit to what you can do." He smiled sheepishly before taking another drink.

"That doesn't really answer my question."

"Yeah, I know. Look, what can I tell you? Uriel is kind of an asshole. I mean, don't get me wrong - he's the best soldier in the garrison. He really is. He's powerful, strong, smart. But in this...he went too far. The desire for Heaven on earth got a little too much. You disrupted the Apocalypse path, and it pissed him off to no end. Regardless of that, he shouldn't have interfered to the point of hurting you, or your family, even though your bloodline is important. It's not supposed to be who we are, or what we do."

More _huh_.

"He also subscribes to the philosophy of leaving you all alone. Castiel was destined to intertwine with your family. Your arrival into the mix altered that a little, because - "

"Because what he was destined to do, may or may not unfold." I thought of Cas saving Dean from Hell, which was always his purpose, connecting him to my brother for eternity. I really _really_ didn't want that to occur here, and by that, I meant that Dean should _never_ face Hell. _Ever_.

"Exactly. He's still assigned to your bloodline, and that won't change. But…it's kinda... _messy_ now." Here, his voice faded into another shrug...this one uncomfortable.

It took me a second to figure out where he was going. I sat up, feeling my cheeks darken.

He put a hand on my shoulder. "Hold on. You think you're the first angel-human combo to walk the earth? Because you're not. You're just the first high-profile couple."

"That doesn't help, and we're not exactly a couple," I growled, drawing my knees to my chest and sinking my chin on top.

Michael sighed. "It's caused a bit of a tizzy upstairs. Not that Castiel is running around talking about it, but some angels know. They've seen him with you. Using a human is one thing. Being involved with one is something else entirely."

I faced him. "I thought you were all about glitter and happiness. Why is using us acceptable?"

Now _his_ cheeks turned red. "We're celestial beings, but we still have needs sometimes. At least...some of us do. Look, that's the not the point. The point, is that on top of everything else, Uriel was insulted by Castiel's affection for a human. He also knows some of Castiel's grace lies within you from the incident with the warlock."

Oooh...so the grace sharing stint in Hell...ooo-kay, mouth shut on that one.

"What are you saying? I get the feeling there's more here than you just explaining Uriel's dickishness."

Michael started peeling the label off _his_ bottle. "You two need to back off for a while until things cool down in Heaven." He mumbled so fast, I almost missed what he said.

Almost.

I guessed he felt bad, because he kept going. "He pulled a lot of strings to get to you in Hell, almost killing himself and weakening several others. Balthazar is still sleeping it off. That kind of attachment can be dangerous, especially now, and with your bloodline."

I chugged the rest of my beer, thinking that this was the topper of my day. I died and got dumped all within minutes, and because it's me, in that order.

But what was I gonna do? Argue with the most powerful archangel in Heaven because I had a crush?

Still, a small part of me whined, _I just got back...I was just getting a sense of who I was as an individual...I was just ready to see where this could go…_

But apparently, all my relationships were doomed to be inappropriate or horrifying. Or a combination of the two.

_Hooray…_

How awesome that this could dampen being home.

"Does he know?" I asked softly, turning my head away from him.

"Yes."

I blinked back some tears. "So...I'll never see him?"

"You'll still see him. Like I said, he's tied to you, and your family. But the extra stuff has to just…"

"Yeah, I get it. Where is he now?"

Michael nodded at the house. "In there. Explaining to your family what happened to you and where you've been." He tilted his head, as if listening to something. "He's about done. They know you're hurt, and they're a bit...uh...anxious." He turned to look at me. "Your father has quite the vocabulary."

I softly laughed. "Yeah...yeah he does."

"Mine does, too. I miss hearing Him speak, and I know you miss your father. So...here's the deal. Don't worry about Uriel. I'll handle him. He won't bother or interfere with you guys. I promise."

I nodded, remembering Dean's warnings about trusting douchebag angels, but not really having a choice in this situation.

"So. Ready to go back?"

I nodded again, resting my palm against the Impala's warm metal, building strength, building resolve, building walls.

"Okee dokee, then."

**xxxxx**

_**Day 1…** _

My room felt weird. How can your room feel weird? I _grew up_ in this room. But it'd been two years since I slept in this bed, looked at these walls, hugged Bear.

_My_ room didn't have windows.

Or...wait...

_Crap_.

**xxxxx**

_**Day 2…** _

Despite the weirdness of my room, I stayed in it, buried under blankets (good Lord, I was actually starting to feel warm again), and sleeping for the most part. If I wasn't sleeping, I was thinking and staring at everything and nothing, trying not to worry about my brothers.

My _other_ brothers.

And _these_ brothers.

People popped in and out, keeping watch over me, making sure I stayed put. I didn't have the heart to explain that if I "left", they wouldn't necessarily know. It seemed like a low blow, so I kept that information to myself.

I especially didn't have the strength to look at them. I just couldn't. Not yet. My turtle routine was upsetting to them, and I got that. But it didn't change what I needed to do, which was hide. Maybe wallow a bit.

Maybe wallow a lot.

_Crap_.

**xxxxx**

_**Day 3…** _

Today was a bad day. I woke up not sure where I was - not trusting what appeared to be true. Jesus, this was fucking with my head. Physically, I was starting to feel better. The draining fatigue was becoming more manageable, and the all-encompassing aches and pains were slowly lessening.

I think.

It'd only been three days.

But it _was_ a bad day, and I kept waiting for Dean to come in my room and work his magic. But he never came. The other Dean showed up, and my initial (and thankfully, internal) reaction, was _Not You_ , and then I felt shitty and guilty and just cried for probably an hour. He didn't understand, and I couldn't take the hurt expression on his face, so I rolled away and pulled the blankets over my head.

When did he become the _other_ Dean?

When I resigned to living with _that_ Dean.

They stopped trying to talk to me, because they knew I didn't want to answer.

I should've been elated. I should've been super duper glad to be home.

And I was.

And I also wasn't.

So, yeah. Today was a bad day.

_Crap_.

**xxxxx**

_**Day 4…** _

The bed dipped, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes, like the asshole I'd been, even though whoever was there couldn't see me. I still wanted to be left alone, but their patience with my mood evidently had its limits.

I couldn't blame them. I was surprised they'd been this patient, quite frankly.

I used to be able to tell who came in my room without looking. I knew Sam's quiet stride, Dean's confident swagger, Adam's hesitant steps.

But it seemed that I forgot.

I was out of practice.

The person just sat there, patiently, keeping their distance.

Okay. Process of elimination. Dean or Sam wouldn't keep their distance. Adam wouldn't come in here without asking. Bobby, too.

That left Dad.

I was pissed that it took me that long to figure it out.

I heard boots being toed off, and the bed shifted again as he laid down next to me, giving me space while still being _in_ my space.

He was right there.

Breathing.

Alive.

There.

_Here_.

_Not_ wanting to be an asshole, I sighed, pulling the covers off my head and pushing aside the hair that fell in my eyes. I rolled onto my back, mirroring him, feeling a million miles away.

"You know, if you don't eat something soon, Dean may start an IV."

I smiled. "Yeah...surprised he hasn't yet. It's just...food's kinda hard. Haven't really eaten in...a while."

Dad crossed his legs at the ankles, lacing his fingers behind his head. "How long?"

Simple questions, designed to draw conversation, sharing, connection.

_Smooth_.

"Months. Maybe...seven?"

He drew in a deep breath, mulling that over, because for him, it'd only been a couple nights. He swallowed it down and continued the calm, steady discussion. "You need to rebuild your strength, regain some weight. What can you tolerate?"

Accepting however and whatever I answered, not overreacting, keeping it casual.

_Clever_.

"Bland stuff, mostly, like grilled cheese, mac-n-cheese, pancakes are even okay. But not a lot at one time." I adjusted my position on the bed. "Dean should know. He's tried everything to - " I stopped abruptly. _This_ Dean _shouldn't_ know.

But Dad...he just nodded, like what I said made total sense. "I'll talk with him. I'm sure he'll figure something out. Meanwhile, we'll start with grilled cheese."

"And cranberry juice," I quickly added, biting my lip after the request hit the air. I'd been hiding like a sulking teenager for days, and now I'm making requests?

"Sure, if that's what you want. It's got a strong taste, though. What's the pull?" He wants to know...he needs to understand... _he's not dead._

I rolled onto my side, facing him. "I cough up blood...a lot. The taste is just...disgusting. Cranberry juice covers it. Kevin said he thinks I'm half cranberry juice now."

Oh, hey - I made a funny. A funny that wasn't quite funny, because I caught the flash of pain and worry that skirted across his face, before he masked it over as he regained control. John Winchester was determined to _be there_ , and not be a hysterical dad. A magical combo of a dad, and a hunter who knows he has to gather data, keep moving, push forward.

"Well, let's try to lower that amount, and maybe bring in other fruit." Oh, hey - he made a funny back.

We fell silent, him still staring at the ceiling, and me at him. Finally, I whispered, "I missed you."

He turned toward me, studying me with gentle eyes. A wry smile pulled at his lips. "My gut response is to tell you that I missed you, too. But…"

I smiled back, a little. "Yeah...I know." I drank in the sight of him, his presence, his aura, his whole being. "How much did Cas tell you?"

Dad blew out a breath and pulled down his arms. "Not a whole helluva lot. We know you were cursed, who cursed you, and the nature of it. Something about...consciousness swapping, until you ended up somewhere you didn't exist, and that's when your real body followed you...that sound about right?"

I nodded, "Yeah."

More silence.

Then Dad leaned over, and tentatively planted a kiss on my forehead. "I'll let you be. You know where we are if you need us."

I nodded again.

He sighed, gently caressed my cheek, then got up and left.

Wiping my eyes, I rolled over and pulled the blanket back over my head.

**xxxxx**

_**Day 4.5…** _

I could feel him watching me. He'd been in and out since I got back, never talking, never interfering. I did my best to not think of him while he was there. Remembering that I thought loudly, obsessing about him wasn't what I needed to broadcast.

After several minutes, I threw off the blankets and sat up. He wasn't creeping me out, but I felt weird not speaking to him. "You sit loudly. Did you know that?"

The room held its breath, then blew it out as Castiel materialized on my window seat. His cheeks were red and he looked a little guilty. I eyed him. "Shared grace, remember?"

Cas rolled his eyes, shrugging out of his trench coat and setting it aside. "I did not forget. I...am simply taking my turn."

"Taking your turn at babysitting the crazy bitch who coughs up blood and can't remember where she is?" I calmly smoothed the blankets, keeping one eye on the angel, watching for his reaction to my snark.

As expected, he was quite nonplussed. "You know that's not how they think of you."

I rolled my eyes back at him. "I know, Cas. I was being - "

"Sarcastic. Yes, I am becoming more familiar with the term."

Oh-ho, snark back at me. I tucked my hair behind my ears. "So. Aren't we going to get in trouble with you here? Talking to me?" I raised my voice a little. "Putting Heaven in a tizzy?"

Castiel winced and actually glanced upward. "No, Kate. This isn't - "

"What he meant. I know. I'm becoming more familiar with what angels want out of me."

_Ouch_.

Backpeddling…"That wasn't directed at you."

He nodded. "While I assumed as much, it's good to know that for sure." He tilted his head. "The other Castiel...he...tricked you into performing those trials?"

Okay, hold on. I never told him that. I didn't even tell Michael that. I stared at him.

Cas shrugged his shoulders. "You dream loudly, too." I narrowed my eyes. "We're connected, Kate. I am sorry, but...your sleep has been quite...distressed. I can't help but…"

Yeah, okay. I get it, but.. _.hold on_. "Why're you blushing? Oh, snap. You _can_ help it...can't you?" HA - deep red looks good on him. "You can! You were eavesdropping!"

Defensive Castiel's shoulders slumped. "I apologize. I am...curious as to what happened, since our connection became tenuous for a while." He stared down at his hands. "I was quite...agitated over my inability to help you, and I have been very...worried."

_Goddammit_. "Hey - I was seconds away from being left in Hell when you swooped in and saved my ass. My ass _and_ Adam's." In a softer tone, I added, "You always save me. I guess that's what got us in trouble, huh?"

He raised his head, deep blue eyes meeting mine. "It was worth it."

_Guh_. Butterflies in the stomach. Slightly increased heartbeat.

_Ugh Ugh Ugh._

"Thanks."

"You don't agree with me?"

"No, I do. I guess. It feels weird telling you that it was worth it, that's all. Besides...towards the end there...I was…" I waved my hands around my head. "...not all there. I convinced myself that I had to die, that being dead was the only good thing that could have come outta my life."

Castiel sighed, his eyes sad. "You know that's not really true, right?"

I shrugged one shoulder, fiddling with the blanket.

"Kate…"

"Yes! I know. I do, okay? That stuff just has to fade, that's all. But when you think about it, it's kinda funny. I mean, Uriel obviously thinks that, right? He wants me out of the picture, which is why he sent me away. I got stuck somewhere I wasn't supposed to be, got involved in a situation that I wasn't supposed to be involved in, and ultimately? I ended up agreeing with the asshole."

Cas was quiet for a moment. Then, "He _is_ such an asshole."

I laughed. "That's what Michael said."

Cas mumbled, "Michael was right." He sighed. "I don't want you hiding in your room forever."

"Cas - it's been four days. Look, I know everyone's used to me just...bouncing back and pushing forward because God forbid I allow someone to worry about me. But you know what? This curse sucked hard. I'm...I'm not back to normal physically or mentally, and I just need some time."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Recognizing yourself as a real person, rather than as the extra Winchester?"

I blinked at him. "Yeah...yeah, I am. They…" My voice caught as I thought of my other brothers. "They taught me that. And it wasn't because they loved me more than these guys, because I know that's not it. But they didn't have the baggage of any history. Kinda...kinda like Adam's take on all of us. He's in the family, and we'd all die for him, but his perspective is just…"

"Clean," Cas supplied.

I smiled. "Yeah…"

Cas fiddled with the hem of his coat.

"What is it?" Something was bugging him.

He shrugged, then asked, "So...what about...the...other Castiel?"

Frowning, I asked, "What about him?"

He shrugged again. "Just...I mean, he _tricked_ you. And...you were still interacting with him...and he...is…"

"Are you jealous?"

His head snapped up, defenses raised. "No! Why would I be jealous? That's...no!"

"Cas?"

He huffed angrily, eyes across the room.

"Cas!"

He huffed again, this time softer, dragging his eyes to meet mine.

In a gentle voice, I asked, "Did you hear what I said after you dropped me in the boat?"

Castiel's whole demeanor softened. His lips parted, and he nodded. "Yes, I was still between worlds when you...called out."

"Then don't be jealous."

He took a deep breath and picked up his coat. "Still. You are...connected to me, but not by choice. Michael's directive leaves you free to - "

"Free to what? Get involved with a normal human? Puh-lease. It'd ruin my reputation."

We both got a chuckle at that.

"Well. I should be going. I can't speed the healing within you, and I believe there are some anxious people downstairs waiting to see you." He looked at me pointedly.

I half-rolled my eyes. It's not that I wanted him to leave. It's that I wanted him to stay.

Closer.

Preferably next to me on the -

" _Kate_ ," he whined, shooting me a pained expression, clearly indicating that he wanted the same thing.

But we can't.

" _Sorry_. Quieter thinking. It's on my To Do list."

He shook his head fondly, then blinked out of sight.

I flopped back onto my pillow and stared at the ceiling. The sudden jostling triggered a mild coughing fit, which I wrapped up with a smear of blood across the back of my wrist.

_Sigh_.

I'd gotten so used to my mouth tasting foul, that I didn't even flinch at it anymore. Now that I was healing, it was once again, _disgusting_. I wiped it off, then tossed the tissue into the garbage. Shoving the covers aside, I swung my legs to the floor. I'd been wearing the same clothes for a few days, which, after a quick whiff, proved to be a bad idea.

After grabbing clean clothes, which...great...boy clothes, large and loose fitting...I shuffled to the bathroom and took a much needed shower. I remembered how I promised Sam I'd shower before starting the third trial. But I didn't, because, who needs to be clean if you're just gonna die?

Yuuuuup.

Clean, dry, and freshly garmented, I decided it was time to face them. I tossed my towel on a chair, and zipped up my hoodie. I was admittedly a little dizzy. This was a lot of unassisted activity for me, and it was proving to be a lot.

Showering was a lot of activity. _Bleh_.

When I came out of my room, Dean was waiting in the hallway, trying like hell to look casual.

"Oh! Hey! I, uh, was just coming up to get...some…thing..."

I blinked at him.

He huffed, busted. "Heard the shower, wanted to make sure you were okay." He thrust a hand in his hair, scrubbing back and forth against his scalp. "So. You okay? Or...you want me to leave? Or…"

In two steps, I had my arms around him, holding on with all I had. Which right then, wasn't much, but it was all his. He clung back, one hand cradling the back of my head. His breaths came in ragged gulps, making me curl my fingers into the fabric of his shirt to ensure a stronger grip.

Sam once told me that Dean was his constant - always there, always Dean. Those words rang true for me as well. My Deans were seven years and many hurts apart, but they were both still _Dean_.

_My_ Dean.

"Missed you…" I murmured into his shirt.

He sighed into my hair. "This is so fucked up...I don't know how to answer that."

I thunked my head against his chest. "I know...it's okay."

Dean snorted. "Katie, in no way is this okay. Not even close to okay. _Okay?_ "

I nodded, drying my eyes on his shirt before pulling back, taking steadying breaths of my own. His brow furrowed as he caught sight of the scars on my cheek. With gentle fingers, he traced them, stopping when I winced at a tender spot.

"Those look kinda fresh...what got you?"

I hugged myself. "They're not fresh, actually. Um...they're about five months old."

His eyebrows rose, at how they could still look fresh and at how they could be five months old when it'd only been five days since the barbeque.

I sighed. "I know. This is gonna take some getting used to."

He critically looked me over, head tilting toward the stairs. "Dad said you needed bland stuff to eat, so I went to the store and got some stuff. You need to get some weight back...get your strength up. You hardly ate since...in the last few days." He swiped a hand across my forehead. "Maybe some Tylenol, too."

Nodding again, I ran my fingers through my damp hair. "My temp goes up and down...meds usually don't work, but maybe they will now? I dunno. You shoved Advil down my throat, I think, unless I spiked over a hundred-five, then it was ice baths."

I stopped there, realizing that it wasn't him that took care of me. "Shit...sorry…"

He shook his head, taking my arm and leading me down the stairs. "No sorries. I just...I mean...so...I was there?"

Was he there. Ha. "Yeah, you and Sam both. Well, I mean, for a while I was jumping all over the place. Sometimes you were there, and sometimes you weren't. It always changed. But the last place I landed…" We reached the bottom, and I took a second to catch my breath. "I was there a while...and I was with you and Sam. That made it a lot...easier."

We rounded the corner into the kitchen, where Adam sat reading a thick book and Bobby was drinking a beer. When he saw us, Adam jumped up, knocking into Bobby and dropping his book onto the floor.

"Shit - sorry, Bobby! I didn't... _sorry!_ " Adam scrambled to hand Bobby a napkin for the beer that dribbled onto his shirt while picking up his book and trying not to look like he was uncomfortable and worried.

I stopped in my tracks and just watched him. He looked so... _okay_. He wasn't a curled up sobbing mess. Unconsciously, I rubbed my arm where the several inch long scar lie from where I carried his soul. Tears welled in my eyes, and I smiled through them, trying to not look like a crazy person, but knowing I totally did.

I cleared my throat, getting a grip. "You okay?" I asked, needing to make sure.

He looked at me like I was insane for asking. "Yeah...I... _yeah_." His eyes darted to Bobby, as if to ask _What The Fuck Do I Do?_ Which made me look at Bobby, which made me want to cry again.

"...Missy?"

I walked over, giving him a big hug. "It's good to see you."

He handed off his beer to Adam, hugging me back. "It's...good to see you, too." When we separated, he took my chin in his hand and turned my head a little. "What happened here?"

"I asked the same thing," Dean said, going to the refrigerator.

My eyes flickered to Adam. Before I could answer, he stammered, "Did...did _I_ do that to you?"

Fuck. "What? No! You... _no!_ "

The look of relief was almost comical. He came over to examine my cheek. "I'll get some cream. It looks - "

"Don't bother," I said, stepping back. I could feel the blush on my cheeks as I remembered my trip to the Cage. I rotated my shoulder where the second set of scars lie. "It won't help."

"Get the kit anyway," Bobby ordered. "Now that you're up, I wanna look you over."

For a moment, I was irritated. Dean's been taking care of me since these trials started. If there was something helpful to be done, he'd have done it, and _that_ Dean's knowledge far exceeded even _this_ Bobby. I pushed that thought away, though, because it wasn't fair, and I knew it.

Add to that a different set of people hovering over me, and I started feeling really...weird. Kevin was replaced by people who'd been dead for two years. (Kevin - who didn't exist here - I checked.)

"I'm fine, Bobby." I walked to a chair and sat down, drawing my knees to my chest, making myself as small as possible. It was hard being the center of attention at the Bunker, but thankfully I wasn't really lucid for most of it. Here, I was painfully aware of the attention, and it was uncomfortable.

I felt myself pulling away.

Adam and Bobby snorted in unison as Adam left to grab the kit. "Hardly. I wanna see all those new scars, and - "

"And she's got a fever," Dean chimed in, taking out cheese and bread. and starting to make sandwiches.

I pressed my lips together, breathing through my nose in an effort to calm the frustration blooming within. They didn't understand why I was agitated. Naturally, I should be going through a rough period as I adjusted...they just couldn't grasp that while I was glad to be home, I had a life back there. I made peace with the curse and settled down. _I was ready and willing to die._

And now?

Now I was alive, torn between families and feelings of immense guilt, wanting to defend Dean to Dean, and it was all just...too much.

I got bitchy.

"Actually," I said, in a louder voice. "I'm doing a lot better." I could see the question on Bobby's lips, even though he refused to voice it. So I helped. "A lot better means I'm lucid and not choking on my own blood. Not to mention I'm not dead anymore, so _trust_ _me_ , this is _fine_."

My sass was _so_ uncalled for. But irrationality dug her claws into me, and out came that shitty little speech.

My words hung thick in the air. Adam came back with the kit, immediately sensing that something wasn't quite right. "What happened?" He demanded, setting the kit on the table and undoing the latches.

Let's add more guilt to the party.

"I'm being an asshole," I muttered, rubbing at my eyes. "I'm sorry, Bobby…"

Bobby rubbed his cheek and flapped a hand at me. "It's okay...I'm just worried about you. This is...this is gonna take some time to get used to."

We were saying that a lot.

Adam's eyes bounced between Bobby and me. Dean resolutely kept his back to us, focused on making food. "Okay, then." Adam raised his chin at me. "Show me where you're hurt."

I laughed a little. "You can't fix what's on the inside. Michael said I'm healing, though, so…" I sluggishly took off the hoodie, revealing the scars on my back right shoulder blade and my arm in addition to the ones on my cheek.

Adam paused, one hand in the kit. "What's with your insides?"

Uh…I looked up at him. "Cas didn't explain that?" I'd really hoped he did.

He shook his head, eyes going a little wide. Bobby sat down next to me, and I could sense Dean's attention.

Wetting my lips, I explained the whole burn thing. "But it's getting better. It feels better. So…" I kept leaving my thoughts hanging like that. _So_...

Adam cinched his mouth to the side, and carefully laid the back of his hand against my shoulder scars, and the ones on my cheek. "Those were from the same monster, right?" You have no idea. I nodded. "They're warm...I'll get some ice for them."

Bobby waved him off. "I'll get it. You keep checking."

I sat still throughout Adam's exam, thinking that they must have done this already...I'd been back over four days. Probably while I was sleeping, come to think of it. But now that I was awake and voluntarily seeking their company, I figured they wanted the stories to go with the scars.

Over his shoulder, Dean called out, "You never answered me upstairs."

"Huh?"

He brought over a simple sandwich, placing it in front of me. I was actually a little hungry, so again, good signs.

Taking Bobby's seat, he pointedly eyed me. "What got you?"

And now I wasn't that hungry.

He saw the shift. "That bad?"

Bobby held a towel-wrapped ice pack against my shoulder which, fuck, did feel good. Adam wrapped it in place with an Ace bandage.

They waited.

Eyes downcast, I answered in a quiet voice. "It wasn't a what...more like a who. Or...two whos. I'm not really sure."

Silence.

"Okay…"

I set my scarred arm on the table, tracing where I'd sliced it open. The cut ran a good six inches. Dean covered my hand with his. I sighed. "It was Lucifer," I answered so softly that Dean leaned closer.

"I'm sorry...uh...what?"

I looked up. "I said it was Lucifer."

That set Bobby back a step. "Lucifer? He's a…"

"He's real. He's real _here_ , too. I'd met him before, in one of my jumps. He's an angel. If we believe in angels, we need to believe in all of them."

At this point, Bobby sat down. Adam re-felt my forehead, and Dean patted my arm.

Oh, hell no. They think I'm delusional. That whole stint in Hell was anything but delusional. "You think I'm making this up?"

Bobby sputtered. "No! No, 'course not. It's just...I mean...Lucifer? _Really?_ "

Shit...just wait until they find out Sam's his true vessel. Or…was he? Maybe...maybe in those other places? _Fuck_...I should've asked Michael.

"Kate? You okay?"

That's when the back door opened, and in walked Dad and Sam. Sam who...who looked _so fucking young._ Sure, _this_ Sam's had his share of shit thrown his way, but it was nothing compared to the older Sam I'd been living with. Dean was a constant, older or younger looking. Our relationship didn't change. But Sam...

My relationship with Sam, no matter what reality, was always different. _Special_.

He sensed something was up, and flashed me a brief smile, before turning and placing a plastic bag on the counter.

"What's up?" Dad asked, nodding at the ice packs and med kit.

Bobby leaned back in his chair, while Adam pressed an ice pack against my cheek. "Hold it there, okay?"

I nodded, doing as I was told.

Bobby grunted. "Kate was tellin' us how she got those scars on her face and shoulder." Dad raised an eyebrow. " _Lucifer_ did it."

He raised the other one, and turned to me. "That sounds like a story."

Adam shook his head. "Why would you be dealing with Lucifer? I mean, what would make you tangle with the most...I mean, he's the biggest bad guy ever, right?"

What would make me, indeed.

Dean nudged me.

"I took his favorite toy away, and he was pissed." Still couldn't bring myself to just be straight with them. The more cryptic I was, the more they'd push, and _still_ I was evasive. I was being a shit, again.

"What toy would Lucifer have?" Adam asked.

I lolled my head up at him. "You."

Well. What was the point of doing that? Adam's expressions ricocheted between shock, fear, wonder, and _what the fuck_. Everyone was stunned into silence, and a part of me was just a little satisfied at that. I picked up the sandwich and took a bite.

Not bad.

I kept eating, aware of everyone staring, wanting more information, but I just...I just closed off and ate my grilled cheese.

" _Kate_."

" _Fuck off, Cas."_

" _You're being very unfair."_

" _I'm aware of that."_

" _Then stop. They don't deserve it."_

" _I don't deserve to be spied on."_

And he was gone.

Dropping the sandwich on the place, I sighed and flopped against the back of my chair. "I'm sorry. For you, nothing's happened. You went to bed, woke up, and somehow I lost thirty pounds, gained a bunch of weird scars, and started spouting how I've been gone for two years having tea with Lucifer."

I pushed back my chair and stood up, placing the ice pack on the table. Shaking my head, I continued. "I don't know what to tell you, okay? I know you want information, I know you need it. And actually, there's stuff you really do need to know. But telling you feels like I'm telling a big story, instead of sharing real events from my life. And right now, that feels really wrong. I just...I need some time to get used to you all even being here." I looked at Dad and Bobby. "Not dead." I turned to Adam. "Not damaged." I faced Dean. "Not... _older_." His eyes widened at that.

Bobby pulled off his cap. Dad stepped up. "And you need to know that while other people may have been taking care of you in our place, that job is ours, and we need to do it. They may have tried ten things to make you eat, but we haven't. So give us a chance to be there for you, the way you've always been there for us."

I plopped back in my chair, nodding.

Dean stood up, bumping me with his hip. "Eat your sandwich. I'll get you some cranberry juice."

More contritely, I nodded again, picking up the food and taking another bite.

Adam pulled out a tube of muscle cream. "Let's see if this helps, okay?"

Another nod. Another bite. Dad nodded his approval, and he and Bobby left the room.

Adam rubbed some cream onto my scars, which now tingled from the menthol substance. After capping the tube, he washed his hands, snagged his textbook, and slunk away.

I finished half the sandwich, and half a glass of juice. Breathing was a little easier with just Sam and Dean in the room. Sam, who hadn't said a word this whole time. He'd been leaning against the counter, watching and listening. I caught him sharing a look with Dean, who nodded in response.

Dean handed him a bottle of Tylenol, ruffled my hair, then left.

I looked up at Sam.

He looked over at _me_ , then smiled his fucking smile. "So...conflict, huh? Guilt for being _here_ , guilt for not being _there_ , trying to keep both separate, but we're the same people sorta, so that's not easy. They're all bossy, closing in on you, you're a different person and you need to mesh who _you_ are with who _we_ are, because you moved on while we...apparently slept." He lowered his voice. "And...I'm guessing something went down with Cas as well, which is really why you're prickling."

We blinked at each other.

"How'd I do?"

"I missed you."

"I missed you, too."

That response - telling me he missed me back - was the magic phrase. Those four words centered me, validating everything, instantly.

If anyone could understand me, or at least come close, it was him.

It was _always_ him.

"Finish eating, before Dean has a heart attack. I got some of your favorite beer. We're gonna go sit in the Impala for a while, okay?"

_More than okay._

**xxxxx**

_**Epilogue…** _

The humming hadn't stopped in hours, beyond the point of being annoying.

Said annoyance hadn't gone unnoticed.

"It helps me focus, and I need to focus."

There was a huff. "I _know_ you need to focus, but it's been _hours_ of the _same song_. Don't you know anything else?"

Crowley straightened up, an amused look on his face. "It's sort of ironic. Or at least I think it is - that song butchered the meaning of the word horribly. Here I am, working the black magic of my mother, humming a tune the little whore sang to me when I was a child, when I'd sworn off anything and everything to do with her."

Sam rolled his eyes, adjusting the sling on his shoulder. The fucking cast just itched like mad. He tossed a pencil onto the desk and closed the enormous book in front of him. "Find anything?"

Crowley shook his head, and went back to staring in a large bowl, filled halfway with a dark liquid. "Nothing since the last time you asked, which was, oh, five minutes ago."

"Great."

Footsteps sounded in the hall, and Cas joined them. "How's it going?"

Sam sighed.  "Nothing to report, here, apparently." Crowley snorted. "What's going on in Heaven?"

Cas shook his head. "Naomi is still scrambling to keep control, and no one seems to care that Metatron is missing. They're just glad he's gone. They don't care where."

Sam huffed, grimacing at the stupidity of angels. Well. Some angels. "Of course not."

"Hold on a minute…"

Sam scrambled to his feet, careful of his injured arm, getting to Crowley's side in a few steps. "What is it?"

"I think... _yes_...I found her."

"Are you sure?"

Crowley shot Sam a withering look. "Blood binding spells are the most powerful in existence. I have enough of your sister's blood in my veins to be able to locate her, no matter where or when she is. I don't know why her blood made an appearance, but it did, and I have a lock on it."

Sam picked up the duffel that'd been packed and ready for over a month. Crowley grabbed his. "Okay. Let's go."

"Sam…" Cas put a hand on Sam's arm.

Sam nodded, clapping Cas on the shoulder. "I know you want to come with, Cas, but someone has to be here to open the portal."

"What are we, chopped liver?" Charlie demanded, as she and Kevin walked in, carrying plates of food. "Wait - what the hell? We step out for nachos and you find her? Jesus!"

Crowley shrugged, helping himself to a handful of chips. "I can't control when the spell's gonna work, love. I just cast them."

Sam impatiently nudged Crowley. "Come on - we're wasting time."

Crowley sighed. "Moose - you need to relax, at least a little, before you give yourself a heart attack."

Sam pinched his forehead. "Let's just go."

Charlie set down her plate and gave Sam a hug. "Find him, okay? Bring him home."

Sam nodded. "I will."

"And say hi to my cutie."

Sam laughed.

She nodded back, turning to Crowley. "And you. Take care of him, _and_ yourself."

Crowley's head dipped slightly, a smile on his lips. "No worries, there, sweetheart."

She retreated to Kevin's side. They both looked so hopeful.

Sam turned to Cas. "Contact me if anything happens."

He nodded. "And you do the same. If you need me - "

"If I need an angel's power, I'll ask _that_ Castiel. Seriously, Cas, I can't save Dean if you're with me. I need you here. There's...there's hardly anyone left here to help us." He glanced at Kevin. "Speaking of which...call Jody - fill her in. She was really pissed the last time we kept her in the dark. I don't know how long we'll be gone, and she will help if you need anything."

"Will do," Kevin said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Crowley and Sam stepped into the center of a elaborate symbol, painted on the floor. They looked at each other.

Crowley smiled. "Well. Time for an adventure." He snapped his fingers, and they were gone.

**XXXXXXXXX**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...here ends Quantum AU. Officially. And yes, there's a sequel (unplanned...an idea came to me while walking my dogs), but yes, I'm an asshole, and I left you with a cliffhanger and some wait time.
> 
> I can't believe it's been a full eight months that I've been writing this story.
> 
> Thank you for everything - the reviews, the kind messages, everything.
> 
> I realize there are some holes, and not everything jives, but as Metatron said, the story's not quite finished.
> 
> So I'm going to take a break, and start a H/C request thread, just for something fun and relaxing. Then I'll get back to this. It will be in a NEW story, with a different title, all original. Not sold on a title yet, but I'll indicate it's a sequel in the summary.
> 
> Again - thanks for sticking with me. :)


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